What Lies in the Wasteland
by XimonlyjokingX
Summary: Jack and Rhys are stranded in the Pandoran wasteland together.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I haven't been on Fanfiction in forever! It's such a nostalgia to visit again :3

I originally posted this story on Archive of our Own; another great site for fic viewing! So I'm taking all 20 chapters I've currently written and slapped it here too!

WARNINGS: This entire story is filled with a lot of mature themes. Strong Language, Violence, Gore, Raunchy Jokes, Smut. A lot of Smut.

Disclaimer: Gearbox, you crafty bastards, it is your genius ideas that send my mind reeling into the world of borderlands you (ง ͯ ᗜ ͯ )ง I do not profit from this whatsoever, it is not my idea, etc etc.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Why did falling anywhere on Pandora always seem like it happened in slow motion? Perhaps it was due to the planet's gravitation, that it wasn't as strong as what was considered normal for those who weren't use to living there. And shock was easily another reason for it; in those moments your body is helpless to catch itself could the sudden rush of adrenaline actually _slow_ time?

In a rush of logic and reasoning over his current situation, Rhys suddenly decided that he no longer gave a shit about why.

Because, _holy shit_ , he was falling from the sky.

The painfully overwhelming ringing in his ears had yet to subside, even blocking out the sound of wind rushing past his ears. He saw his long limbs spread out all around him, like he was laying down in air, air moving past him insanely fast that is, and he realized he couldn't get them to move.

A large burning chunk of shrapnel, yellow and black and chrome, whizzed by him only feet away. Rhys could feel it pass him, a sound that would be more than likely something awful if he could hear it over the ringing.

The large piece of rocket sailing through the sky had caused Rhys to get thrown off balance and he twirled from his back onto his stomach, arms and legs still flailing around him against the force, the wind blowing in his face and threatening to flow into his mouth. Stunningly he was able to lift his head through all of this and peak through heavily squinted eyes.

It was like something out of sci-fi movie he'd watched as a kid.

There were flaming pieces of metal everywhere, blazing, melted, and trailing thick black lines of smoke and ember as they fell. There were other chunks of miscellaneous debris all in the air, he could barely make out pieces of shredded clothing and other materials, layers of the ship, and...oh God, was that a forearm and half a torso? Oh God, ' _don't look at it, don't look at it. Gonna vomit.'_

Rhys tore his eyes away to look at a large figure tearing through one large clump of smoke as if resurfacing from a pool of black water upside down. The wind stung his eyes like needles, tears flooding his vision for only a mere second before being blown away, but he steadied his gaze at the body, watching as it fell head first, torso angled in almost a curve, legs flailing out and fighting against the pressure, arms grasping as if trying to hold onto something.

Though singed and somewhat still smoking Rhys spotted the ever familiar black jacket, yellow sweater, and obvious sneakers. Both brown and blue eyes widened despite the stinging wind, his stomach jumping in his throat.

" _Jack!"_

His mouth moved but he could hear nothing but that damned ringing, and he wasn't even sure if he had said the man's name or thought it.

Whether Jack _had_ heard the shout or it was just plain coincidence, he lifted his head back at that moment catching sight of Rhys. And they both stared at each other, not even acknowledging the burning objects whizzing past them. It didn't matter that Jack's expression seemed more angry than Rhys' shell shocked one, they both knew what the other was thinking the moment their eyes locked.

What the _fuck_ just happened?

Not knowing what else to do, Rhys extended his metal arm out toward Jack.

In turn Jack mouthed something toward Rhys. Even with the deafening ring, he doubted he would have been able to hear him.

And time was going by so _freakin_ slow.

But Rhys had to admit, it would have made for a good musical intro.

Jack started to squirm, like he was trying to gain balance against the magnitude of the current. Rhys continued to watch the other man, noticing that the weight of his outstretched metal arm sent his body careening head first, staring down into the Pandoran wasteland he would slam into with a bone shattering impact.

And what was worse than that? Rhys was absolutely _terrified_ of heights.

And _holy shit,_ they were really high in the air.

Panic seized Rhys' chest tightly, and he felt like his rib cage was going to implode on itself. He felt the air leave his lungs at what he assumed was an attempt at a fear stricken scream. The longer he stared at the distant ground bouncing closer and farther in his eyes, taunting him with his irrational fear, the more hysteria engulfed him. His stomach churned painfully.

Oh God, oh God. He was going to die, plummeting to Pandora, whatever is left of him will splatter over half a mile's radius.

Rhys didn't want to die, not now, not like this.

The ground began to fade into fond memories of him and Vaughn in college, in that shitty little dorm they shared with the cheap ac unit they had to constantly fix, of all the crazy intern parties he would drag the smaller more introverted man to. He remembered the first day he met Yvette and within the first minute they met he tried to flirt with her. He still remembers the blunt pain on his cheek when she had backhanded him, and how that one backhand had blossomed a best friendship.

He remembers mornings at the coffee shop, just the three of them laughing at the smallest things and too caught up in enjoying each others' company.

His first time on Pandora, the Gortys project, Fiona, Sasha…

When he first met Handsome Jack, first as a hologram and then in the new body he obtained when they arrived back on Helios.

The first time Jack caused his chest to flutter, that day in the office when that large hand ruffled his hair, trailing calloused fingers past his cheek to cup his jaw, causing him to _look_ into those heterochromic eyes of his.

No...no...he didn't want to die! There was still so much to do, too many people to worry about!

Rhys didn't notice the blur of movement above him, spiraling down on top of him before he felt a large hand fist the back of his jacket between his shoulder blades. Despite the weight of gravity pulling them down the grip on him forced his body up and smashed him into another hard object, the fist uncurling only to be replaced by a strong arm wrapping around his back to hold him tight. Face pressed into a warm surface, Rhys picked up a fleeting scent of burning rocket fuel and singed leather.

A distant voice in his ear brought him back the present again, and he was surprised to hear anything other than the possibly-eardrum-ruptured sound of ringing.

"Hold on tight, kitten."

Rhys didn't have to be told twice, his hands gripping every bit of Jack's clothing possible, pressing himself as close as possible to the other man. He watched with unfocused eyes as Jack's other hand reached up to grip the small item hooked to the chest of his jacket, wrapping his large fingers around the pentagonal object until a bright blue light came to life in the middle of it. The blue light convulsed and Rhys found themselves both momentarily wrapped in a familiar bright warmth.

"And for fucks sake, don't puke on me."

Of all times for Jack to be a smartass, but before Rhys could register both the blue light and Jack's words, time began to speed back up, sending both men descending back down onto the hell ridden planet they had departed from only moments ago.

And that's when Rhys' eyes rolled back in his head, and his world had fallen into a black nothingness.

I hope you enjoyed it so far, guys! If you did, please help yourself to the rest of my story! And feel free to leave a comment if you'd like, I would be ever so grateful :3

Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Did you know the desert can sing?" Sasha had said one night during their journey across the Pandoran wilderness, huddled against the makeshift fire, a youthful mirth shining in her eyes with the flicker of flames as she eyed Vaughn and Rhys.

Vaughn snorted, although the hesitant expression from behind his glasses was evident. "Um, right. I'm sure that's just the dehydration drying your brain out."

"A Hyperion code monkey would say that," Sasha smirked, "until you've actually _heard_ it. In the dead of night, _out there,_ in parts where no being dare tread."

"Sash, stop." Fiona softly chided barely hiding her smile at her sister's antics.

Sasha giggled, and there was a moment of silence between the troupe of misfits as they drifted into their own thoughts.

"So," Rhys started slowly, "what does it sound like?"

His quiet inquiry caused a spark of combined surprises, like he was actually believing the tall tale. Rhys looked between his companions and shrugged, casting a quick glimpse at Athena perched against the back of the vehicle partly shrouded in the pitch black darkness before quickly glancing back to the young thief.

"What?" Sasha tilted her head slightly.

"The songs...what do they sound like?" Rhys asked again, curiosity turning into anxiety when Sasha suddenly grinned mischievously and wiggled herself closer to the fire.

" _Now_ you've done it." Fiona sighed, leaning back to stretch her legs out and propped herself on her elbows.

A breeze blew through the camp at that precise moment, whipping the flames and stirring the embers into the air. Vaughn's shoulders shook, from fear or the chilled air Rhys wasn't sure, but he wouldn't blame his best friend for getting mega creeped out at the bad timing, ignoring his own gooseflesh prickling his skin underneath his suit.

It was like Pandora just _loved_ to mess with your head, like always.

"They say it's from the moans of the dead and forgotten, tainted souls that are left to wander the desert in search of redemption," her voice dropped an eery pitch. Rhys remained silent, attention completely consumed and continued to listen intently.

"Others' speak of large mutant wereskags that wonder the darkest parts of Pandora. When they howl it sounds like the tormented souls of the afterlife…." Sasha's eyes went large and she leaned closer, the orange glow of the fire illuminating her features. Rhys suddenly felt pressure to his left, and he quickly glanced over and realized Vaughn had eased his way closer to Rhys until their legs touched. Any closer and the other man would practically be sitting in his lap.

And then he heard it, at first a small whistle slowly growing in pitch and intensity from behind him. Rhys flinched and glanced behind him, finding nothing but the pitch black darkness that was night, the glow from Elpis casting a haunting shadow on the distant mountains. When he turned back to listen to Sasha, he found that she was no longer there. No one was there. Fiona, Vaughn, the vehicle, Athena, even the campfire….all vanished.

No, that wasn't right. If he remembered correctly, Fiona had jumped up from behind him and Vaughn and scared the living shit out of them. He knew this because the feminine scream that came out of Vaughn's mouth had made history that night. _This..._ this nothingness, was not what happened.

And the sound, that awful, _awful,_ distant wail coming from the distance around him became closer, louder, more haunting than any sound he had ever heard. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, his blood ran cold, his throat going dry and gritty, like sand had filled his mouth.

His mouth was full of sand.

Rhys jerked and his eyes popped open, only to shut them tightly when he felt the bright heat of daylight burn his real cornea. He tried to gulp in air, and instead swallowed a heap of utterly dry sand.

"Ugh, ack, pfffftttt, pffffrtttt!" He raised himself on his hands and knees, bent over and heaved as much sand out of his throat as possible.

 _'Ugh, oh, oh man, this really sucks.'_ Eyes peeling open this time more cautiously he was able to take in his surroundings. He was met with a flat, desolate scenery that seemed to stretch for countless miles on either side of him, mountains that seemed so small from here were probably huge wherever they were. Wait, where the hell was _he?_

And then it all dawned on Rhys, like a wave of hot water had washed over his spine. The explosion, the falling, the smoke and melting steel. His eyes glanced upward as the flashbacks pieced themselves back together. He suddenly felt himself tumble back on his bottom, breathing heavy and increasingly more frantic.

 _'I'm alive…? I'm alive!'_ Both his flesh and metal hand began grabbing every part of himself, his chest, his ribs, stomach, legs, crotch, checking for any surprise puncture wounds or gashes or any broken bones he had yet to be aware of. When his flesh hand rubbed across one side of his face he felt something sticky and dry on his skin and pulled away to inspect it. Huh, dried blood.

But it wasn't until Rhys attempted to activate his echo eye that he really felt dread stir in his belly. He blinked profusely, nodding his head in a subconscious attempt to jumpstart it. Static blurred his vision, some blues and whites and scratches of color, and that was it. He had his vision, which was a good thing, meaning the mechanics behind his robotic eye were at least operating properly. It was a strange feeling, however, to not feel the rush of energy when he called upon his echo eye. And if he wasn't able to use his echo eye, he already new he couldn't power his mechanical arm to do anything other than the basics.

Looking down at his mechanical arm, he wiggled his metal fingers as a comforting reminder.

At least he still had that.

Great. _Just_ great. The time and hassle it would take to fix his robotics...it'd be different if he had his tools with him, and not having them for such predicaments like this would only serve to piss off Jack when he found out–

Wait.

Jack.

Holy Shit. Where was Jack?

Rhys swerved his head in all directions until he caught sight of a motionless form half buried in the sand not far from him. Ignoring the heavy quake in his legs he bolted for the other figure, chest tightening with fright when his suspicions were correct.

Parts of Jack's right leg, torso, left shoulder and arm were buried in the sand, certain areas of his clothing singed and spots of his skin dirty with black soot. If this was any other circumstance, okay not true – Rhys hesitated for a single moment to take in just how wrecked the all powerful Handsome Jack looked right now. But as crazy as this was and how roughed up the man looked, he had never seen Jack's expression so blank, so... _peaceful._ As if despite their currently fucked situation, the man appeared to be in the deepest sleep of his life, body so still, it didn't even seem like he was breathing.

...Wait a minute.

Jack wasn't breathing!?

Rhys' hands were on Jack instantly, shaking his shoulders, smacking his chest.

"Jack!? Jack, wake up! Please, Jack!"

Was it the wrist or the neck that he could check for a pulse, or both? Why oh why didn't he take that damn CPR seminar at Hyperion?

" _Please. I'm a programmer, not a doctor! "_ Wow, thinking back on it he sounded like such an idiot. That's what he got for trying to be funny.

He did remember one important tidbit of info that Sasha had given him, something about palms on the heart, pushing, breathing air into the others lungs.

Of course this would happen to him.

So, Rhys mimicked what he could remember. He straddled Jack's torso, setting his palms on the man's chest, and began pumping pressure. One, two, three, four, five.

Okay, it was go time.

He grabbed Jack's face, pulling it close to him. A blush blazed his face from his cheeks to his ears. He was about to put _his_ lips on _Handsome Jack' s_ lips. Okay...okay...he could do this! He wasn't a teenager anymore, dammit, he was a grown man trying to save another grown man's life!

He pried the unconscious man's mouth open, gulped, and lowered himself down.

Mind racing in every direction, he failed to notice two different colored eyes pop open, and it was too late for Rhys to react to the confused and feral snarl below him.

"The _fuck!?"_

Before Rhys knew it he found himself sprawled onto his back, a heavy weight on top of him and a crushing force on his throat. And the once technically twice thought dead Handsome Jack was now inches from his face, lips pulled up in a snarl and eyes flaming with anger.

"J-Jaghk," he tried to speak, which only came out as a sputtered gag.

"Gettin you some of ol' Jack while his lights are out? Is that how this is gonna go? Christ, pumpkin, you're sick!"

Rhys blinked. He didn't think of it like that. But _of course_ Jack would.

"N-No!" He yelped defensively. "C...CP...R!"

There was a pause as Jack stared at Rhys quizzically, the anger fading from confusion into agitation before he eased the crushing grip on the younger man's throat and backed off of him. Rhys grabbed his sore throat and gulped air back into his lungs between coughs.

Jack stared at him incredulously. "Call your fetish what you want, it's still freakin creepy. Creep."

Oh for the love of…

"You...you weren't breathing. I had to..." he coughed, "do something!"

"Don't make excuses, kiddo. It doesn't suit you." Jack huffed back, not doing a great job of hiding his antagonistic grin. They stayed quiet for a moment as Rhys caught his breath, and the air began to turn serious again when Jack tried to roll his shoulders and winced.

"Son of a taint...feel like I got rammed by a loaderbot."

Rhys could agree with him on that. He watched as Jack rubbed his shoulder with his other hand and scrutinized their surroundings. Just like he had done when he first woke up, it seemed Jack was realizing their situation through a hazy mind when he saw the older man's eyes squint and his lips pull down in a deep frown.

"Jack…?"

"What's up, cupcake?" He replied without looking at him.

"How are we still alive?"

His question was answered with a humorous snort. "Because you're with me and my quick thinking, moron. And..." Jack patted himself down and when he didn't find what he was looking for he searched the ground around him until he found it, leaning down and digging something from out of the sand. The little pentagon Jack had attached on his jacket before the fall, only now it was a cracked chunk with a dim shattered middle. "If it wasn't for this little guy taking the brunt of the landing, we'd be throwing up our own anuses."

A wonderful mental image Rhys never wanted to think about again, and shivered when he realized one small piece of technology had saved them from being splattered.

"Damn, and this was the best shield I had on me. Oh well." Jack tossed it over his shoulder carelessly, the shield long forgotten and turned his attention to the younger man kneeling on the ground.

"You look like shit, kiddo. Any damages I should know about?"

The look on Rhys' face resembled a fish out of water. Did Handsome Jack just ask him if he was okay? He quickly glanced to see if the world was suddenly ending around him. No? Okay, but he was still asked about his well being, which was crazy enough. Granted he'd only been working under Jack for six months since their return to Helios after the whole Gortys fiasco, but in that time he'd only been let known the Hyperion CEO held some small emotion akin to caring for him was in his contradicting jokes, and those small ghost-of-a-second moments where Jack's touch would linger for longer than normal, or when Rhys would catch random stares coming from the older man that held a kind of intensity he couldn't distinguish exactly what it was before it was gone in a blink and a turn of the head.

"Hey, string bean, I asked you a question."

Rhys jumped out of his thoughts at the impatient bark. "Oh! Uh, I'm fine. Sore, and I think the adrenaline is still numbing a lot of it, but I'm okay. Thanks?"

Jack gave him a blank stare. "You sure? Because the dried blood coming from your ears is telling me something different."

So _that's_ what the blood was from earlier. Rhys reached up to cup one of his ears, giving the other man a lopsided smile. "Heh, whaddya know? It must have been from the explosion. It doesn't hurt though."

There was moment of silence in which Jack held that same blank stare, Rhys beginning to fidget under the gaze and it made him a little agitated knowing full well Jack was doing it for that reason. Thankfully he stopped the stare with a roll of his eyes and a sigh, turning away to stare up at the giant space station hovering above them in the sky.

"I've been on this planet far too damn long for my liking. Call up one of those douchebags at Hyperion and get us another shuttle, will ya? My communicator doesn't seem to be working."

"Yeah, right, I'll just…." So caught up in the moment of Jack asking about his health, he had forgotten to mention his echo eye or communication wasn't working either. He decided to give it a try anyway, hoping it would start up this time from sheer luck.

Unfortunately for Rhys he never had much luck to begin with, and the moment he tried to power his echo eye he saw the snowy static blur his vision, followed by a harsh and painful backlash of electricity that jolted through his brain. The nerves in his arms and legs burned and caused him to spasm, and he doubled over and cried out when he couldn't take the overwhelming pain that drowned his senses. He felt hands on his shoulders then, rough and jerking him up into a sitting position.

Blinking through the static Rhys could see Jack staring at him, watching his face closely.

"Kiddo? You still with me? What happened?" There it was again. That...odd, random caring thing he did. It wasn't just what he said it, but how he said it. Rhys could blame how drunk he was on the pain, but he was sure he heard what could be considered as _concern_ coming from the man.

Damn his head hurt, but the spasms and pain had ended the second his echo went dead. He met Jack's eyes unsteadily, and realized what he was about to say should have been relayed about ten feet farther from the man.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine. Uh, remember when you asked me if I had taken any damage?"

Jack remained silent but didn't remove his eyes from Rhys'.

"Well…," he continued with a weak chuckle, "...ah, I forgot to mention that...myechoisn'tworkingeither." Immediately he clamped his eyes shut and waited for it, the explosion that would finish off what the fall didn't.

The grip on his shoulders left, and he could feel Jack rise and take a few steps back. Oh God. Here it comes.

"You gotta be kiddin me."

Yeah, that tone was way too calm for comfort. Rhys chanced one eye to look at the CEO, and chewed his bottom lip between his teeth when Jack began to pace slowly, hands on his hips, shoulders tense, _that_ stance that meant something, someone, a large region, or a continent, was going to die.

This was just the build up.

"Jack…?"

"You mean to tell me," Jack hissed quietly, "that we have absolutely _no way_ of communicating with Helios to get us a shuttle, to get us back home, that we are _stranded._ Here. On this God. Forsaken. Planet," Uh oh, his voice was getting louder, his pacing was getting stompier. A figurative ticking time bomb.

"All because some inbred, scum sucking, disease ridden, shit eating, yellow belly, Pandoran _trash_ BLEW US OUT OF THE FUCKING SKY?!"

Rhys wanted to curl up under a rock. He instead sat as still as stone as Jack exploded in a screaming fit of rage. Well, there was nothing to do now but to let him get it out of his system.

"GOD DAMMIT!" Jack whirled himself around in search of the nearest thing he could blow to pieces. Seeing an innocent boulder a good distance away he swiftly took an elemental pistol out from his ankle holster and proceeded to pummel the poor object with bullets.

Until there was literally nothing left but a cloud of dust and echoing gunfire. Rhys waited until the only sound left was Jack's heavy breathing, stood up, dusted himself off, and walked slowly to the older man, mechanical arm rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"We...we'll find another way back, Jack. It'll be harder, but…I'm sure we'll find something."

"No shit, genius." Rhys winced at the harsh tone, but knew better than to approach Jack until he had completely calmed down. His shoulders slumped and he cast his eyes down to look at his shoes, suddenly feeling more useless than the boulder.

Jack must have noticed Rhys' expression, for when he glanced at the PA from the corner of his eye it seemed to have extinguished some of the fury that was still blazing in his mind and he sighed tiredly, running a hand through his hair to fix some of the loose strands that had fallen out of place during his rampage.

Rhys flinched when a strong hand clamped on his shoulder, squeezing in a way that could be considered comforting. He raised his wide eyes to meet Jack's and the smirk replacing the scowl from earlier, finding this look on the man more true to his nickname.

"C'mon, pumpkin. Let's get going."

"Get going?" Rhy tilted his head in confusion. "Going where?"

"Hah, you're cute when you're playing dumb, kiddo. Let's go." The hand on Rhys' shoulder tugged him forward and the two began walking. And it suddenly dawned on Rhys; he'd never admit it, but Jack actually had no idea where they were going. When every barren, hot, dry desert on Pandora looked about the same, it was hard to grasp a direction so soon, but Jack's pride was tougher than steel, he knew that much about the man, and knew well to keep any further questions to himself.

Until Jack came to an abrupt halt, causing Rhys to stumble and catch himself.

"Almost forgot," Jack said with a grin, "need to roll-call."

It was amazing how many guns Jack kept stuffed in random places on his body. He must have had, like, what, six? One strapped to each ankle, two comfortably placed in the holsters on each side of his torso on his vest underneath his jacket, two placed in his waistline of his pants –one in the front, one in the back.

"Let's see...Lucy...Alice...Berta...Nisha...Rita...aaaand, Catie. Alright! We're good to go!" Rhys rolled his eyes at how happy Jack was right now. Really? Naming your guns?

"Lemme guess," Rhys drawled, "the names of your exes?"

"Yup!" Jack laughed, which resembled something like a kid with his prized toys. "Or the ones I liked, at least. Alice was the one that took out that boulder, ya know. That was one tough woman."

 _'Good lord.'_

"Aw don't be jealous, Rhysie. You might get a gun named after you too one day, sweetcheeks. I'll keep you close to my heart." Jack patted his chest where his heart was, throwing Rhys a large mocking grin with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Despite the blush that bled onto his cheeks, Rhys sighed and shook his head. Was that an attempt to be sweet? God only knew.

The two continued onward, and Rhys couldn't fight the growing anxiety in his gut at the unknown he was sure to face.

Because when you're journeying through the Pandoran terrain with one Handsome Jack leading the way, what could possibly go wrong?

That was sarcasm, by the way.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

For the umpteenth time in a two-hour span Rhys had seriously considered asking Jack if he wanted more cheese to go with his _whine._

Or if maybe he should call a whambulance, because seriously, Jack would not shut the hell up.

The sun was too bright, the heat was too overwhelming, and he was too sore to hear any more of what the older man would to do to the people who had shot an apparent missile launcher at their shuttle. As if he'd run out of horrible ideas, or what seemed like fantasies, of the gruesomely detailed acts of torture that these poor bastards would endure once caught. But oh no, when Jack ran out of the simple tactics, he got creative.

"...And then, ohoho, and _then,_ when they're gurgling blood and other bodily fluids out of the gaping hole in their throats, I'm going to castrate them with a hot, rusty tire iron and make them watch as I feed their genitalia to a pack of skags. And then I'm going to beat the ever-living piss out of 'em…."

With a sigh Rhys raised his head to gaze up into the cloudless sky above him, tuning out Jack for another span of time. Pandora's insufferable summer heat was that much more excruciating when one is use to the consistent seventy-five-degree air conditioning of Helios. Rhys almost felt spoiled, and on a completely different note a little envious of the difference between him and Jack and how they both seemed to handle the desert temperature.

Rhys was drenched in sweat and had long taken his jacket off to tie it around his waist, the top three buttons of his undershirt undone to expose a portion of his sweaty pale chest, pant legs rolled up to his knees. And here Jack was, strolling next to him in all four layers of clothing, strapped to the hilt in heavy guns, and the older man only had what he could see as a light sheen of perspiration on his forehead.

Maybe all the bitching he was doing actually served as a cooling mechanism. Maybe.

He gulped, and swallowed nothing. His throat was so _dry_ and the thought of a single drop of water drove him crazy. He wanted water, he wanted air conditioning, he wanted to be sprawled across his comfortable bed with all the flush pillows and soft sheets. But mostly, he just wanted Jack to shut up. Because the entire time he'd been throwing a tantrum in his head, the CEO was _still_ going on about his unique torture methods.

"...and the photography crew I'm gonna hire are going to take high definition pictures, so I can send holiday cards to each of their family members. Haha, it's gonna be sweet, because instead of cheesy holiday quotes, It's gonna say something twisted, like _Season's Slayings."_ He broke out in a cackle at that last comment.

"Jack." Rhys called out to him, deciding he'd had enough. Between the blazing sun and the horrible visions of mutilation and distasteful holiday cards to grief stricken families, he had to stop this before it drove off the last sane part of him.

"Haha, oh, _Season's Slayings._ Man, that's a good one."

" _Jack."_

"But seriously though, I'm gonna fill their family's stockings with their severed remains…."

"Christ, Jack!" Rhys snapped, a little harsher than he meant to, and he winced once he realized his tone. Jack had stopped talking but the heat of a pointed glare burning his back was clear sign that he was zoning in on Rhys now. The silence grew and with it more fidgeting out the younger man's body. If he turned around now his words would melt and cling to his tongue; Jack had a way with his eyes that could crack stone, could tear easily through Rhys in seconds, and he knew this from experience. He often wondered if Jack knew as well.

Both men stayed quiet the rest of the walk. Rhys focused on the sounds of his feet dragging across the sand and the sensation under the soles of his shoes. A shadow engulfed him for a short moment, catching his attention quickly and he gazed up to squint through the sunlight to watch the gliding form of a patient predator circling above him. He ran his tongue over his dry lips; man, what he wouldn't give for some fried Rakk eggs right about now.

From that moment things started looking decently optimistic.

Rhys blamed it on good timing. Jack blamed it on Rhys' wobbly _"spider ant"_ legs and proceeded to compare his rather embarrassing tumble down a sandy incline to a newborn learning how to walk for the first time. Either way considered, Rhys found himself standing at the foot of a cave. A glorious, dark, cool, hidden cave. Needless to say it was a mouthwatering sight and the allure of it all hypnotized the chestnut haired man into a trance like walk into the opening.

Only to be stopped short by an arm pressed against his chest, coming between him and the shade he was so desperate for. Rhys snapped out of his trance when the rest of Jack suddenly appeared next to him, a stern caution etched into the frown on his face. His other hand reached to pull a pistol out from underneath his jacket, switching off the safety and cocking it in one fluid motion.

"Stay here and keep watch. Imma check the place out first." What could have been considered a touching proclamation was immediately ruined when Jack ruffled Rhys' wavy hair and added smugly, "can't have my little damsel running into distress."

Rhys swatted his hand away, pouting. "I'm not your damsel."

"Yeah yeah. Just shout if you need me, cupcake." Before Rhys could reply Jack ventured down into the darkness of the cave. There was no way to tell how long Jack had been down there, and Rhys was counting every step in his back and forth pace as if counting seconds. It wasn't helping, each minute felt considerably longer and he wasn't sure how long an hour was on this planet. When he found himself bored of pacing he decided to find a comfortable area on the wall of the cave to sit against. No sense wasting precious energy by walking in circles. His thoughts raced instead, of wondering if word of the explosion had gotten back to Helios yet, if Vaughn and Yvette both knew about what happened. Would Hyperion send a search party? Would they care to?

Rhys snorted. Of course they would. Handsome Jack's return shuttle had been blown to pieces, the man that ran Hyperion like a well-oiled machine was missing in action. The Board would search night and day for their precious CEO, that and if they failed to it would mean a one-way ticket out of an airlock for all of them if Jack found out.

But what about Rhys? The question startled him. What _about_ him? He was just a Personal Adviser, which in his defense was a very important job, and he carried out high risk executive decisions on a daily basis, but…

A blunt pain in his back caused him to wince, and he shifted lower against the wall. The pain, however, wasn't enough to shake his mind away from it's current train of thought. It was childish to dwell on it, but the lack of comfort made room for uneasiness. He knew well that Vaughn would worry sick about him, would be on the next shuttle down to search for him with Yvette on his heels. That alone brought a distant warmth to his chest, but even they didn't have enough authority to carry out something like that. His thoughts were again broken this time by a sudden heavy yawn, eyelids becoming more difficult to keep open.

Maybe a small nap would do him good, would clear his mind of the anxiety. He knew he was supposed to be keeping an eye out, but the temptation of sleep was so...enticing. Five minutes wouldn't hurt. Rhys shut his eyes to the world with one last lazy blink, slipping into temporary peace.

Five wonderful minutes was all he wanted….

And he started to hear something that sounded like...sniffing. Like he was being sniffed. Was he dreaming already? He wasn't sure, but if he was it was an odd way to start a dream sequence. But there was something off that Rhys couldn't shake. The sniffing he could put up with, the hot puffs of air on his neck and his chest was a little unnerving, but he shifted uncomfortably when he felt like he was being watched. _Intently._

Rhys opened his eyes, and sorely wished he'd have kept them closed.

The scars and sprays of dried blood adorning the mask inches away from his face were too detailed for his dreams to conjure. Another gust of hot breath in his face reassured that logic. Rhys blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his brain, replacing it with a jolt of panic.

If the mask wasn't the first clue, the bare ashen skin littered in shoddy tattoos hunched over him was definitely the dead giveaway.

What other great way to wake up than with a freaking psycho _way_ too up in your personal space?

"...you have them."

Rhys almost didn't hear the whispered comment, assuming the psycho said it more to himself than to Rhys. When he did nothing the mindless Pandoran let out something akin to an impatient whine. "Give it…!"

"W-What?"

"M...Mmmm...meat sacks."

 _What?!_

"They're mine! Give it!"

Wild hands were on Rhys faster than he could register, pushing him into the dirt, the psycho's full weight on top of him and pinning his legs. Those crazed hands gripped his shoulders, his neck, his chest, gripping at the collar of his shirt and tugging harshly until one of the buttons popped off. Rhys shouted, using his own hands to pry the man off him. The metal hand was doing a pretty good job of holding off the psycho's head with a strong palm to the jaw, but his flesh hand had been caught at the wrist and slammed back down to the ground beside his head.

"Delicious meat sacks. You covet! I take! I will taste the selfish desire in your blood!"

The shit coming out of this guy's mouth was, to be expected, but freaking crazy. Rhys yelped when blunt fingertips of the free hand frantically dug into his bare chest. Was this guy really trying to rip his heart out? His stomach lurched painfully. At this moment he regretted not asking Jack for one of his ex-girlfriend guns before he left, and not thinking ahead like he should have would now come back to bite him. Or in this case, tear his heart out.

"My babies, precious meat sacks. GIVE THEM TO ME!"

"You can't have them!" Rhys shouted the only sensible thing that came to mind, regretting it as soon as realized how idiotic that sounded and it only served to fill his attacker's unsteady eyes with indignant rage. Not only would he be awarded for most embarrassing last words, but now he was about to get mutilated by a pissed off psycho, who suddenly raised himself up into a sitting position and heaved a shrill scream.

"I'll drink the juices from your bra-!"

A hole between the eyes silenced the screaming, the back of the crazed man's head exploding with a sickening wet sound sending chunks of skull cap and brain matter in all directions. Rhys felt the ringing in his ears then, adrenaline rushing through him too fast to consider how or what caused it. The body above him leaned back at the impact and slouched forward to the young man's dismay to drop it's weight on top of him, blood and other fluids splattering over his face which helped little to none to quell the surging bile in his throat. He grabbed the corpse's shoulders with quivering hands attempting to push the dead weight off of him, but before he could a strong grip on the back of his neck dragged him out from under the body and tossed him out of the way until he landed roughly on his metal shoulder. Biting back a pained groan he shifted to his other shoulder in time to see Jack marching up to the lifeless psycho sprawled out to the ground, hissing curses and mumbled profanity.

"Sick piece of skag shit." He growled, pointing the gun close range and firing off another shot into the corpse causing Rhys to wince. He watched Jack closely, taking note of the way he stood over the body quietly and scowled hard, as if it would cower under the feared man.

After a moment of prolonged silence Jack tucked the gun back into the holster under his jacket and paused before whirling his body a complete 180 to face Rhys, and at the sight of Jack's hauntingly furious expression the younger man flinched back as if he too was shot point blank. Damn, that look sent a shiver of fear up his spine. He wanted to ease away, to turn invisible and get the hell out of the cave, far away from that vehement stare.

"Seriously, kid? The bastard's on top of you wanting your... _meat sacks,_ er, whatever the hell _that_ means, and all you can say is ' _you can't have it?'"_

Oh. That. Rhys definitely wanted to turn invisible now.

Jack rolled his eyes so hard his head lolled back, hands on his hips to accentuate his exasperation. "Christ, he was gonna maul you and you politely decline? This isn't fighting with your sister over a doll, princess." Rhys dropped his gaze to stare at the ground in front of his feet. His metal arm rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly feeling more ashamed than embarrassed. So much for not being anyone's damsel.

"M'sorry, Jack…." the younger man mumbled under his breath.

"Sorry? Sorry isn't going to save your ass out here, kiddo."

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Rhys snapped back defensively, "He had me pinned. Plus, it wasn't like I invited him to attack me. He surprised me!"

"A psycho that sneaks up on people? Bullymongshit. Were you napping or something?"

Rhys opened his mouth to retort, but closed it immediately and glanced away once more to stare at the cave wall. He made his answer clear to Jack without even saying anything.

"That was your first mistake, sleeping beauty. I told you to keep watch. See what happens when you don't listen to Handsome Jack?" It was ridiculing enough being lectured like he was a child, so instead of answering Rhys kept his mouth shut. Thankfully Jack didn't pry for the answer. He heard the other man advancing toward him but his eyes remained on the cave wall to the right of him. Jack crouched down to meet eye level and when Rhys still didn't give his attention to the man he felt his chin firmly gripped between a calloused thumb and index finger, pulling his face back to meet the scrutiny of blue and green irises.

Jack let out a sigh so heavy it dropped his shoulders. "Don't make that stupid face. It makes me consider the thought of feeling slightly guilty for yelling at you."

By now Rhys has learned a bit of the man's language, so if he was correct in his translation he was sure that from Jack to English that translated as a partial _I'm sorry_ _for yelling at you._ But even that was a big enough reason for Rhys to give in and lock his eyes with the other mans. A flood of diffidence overcame Rhys and he pursed his lips with the hesitance of saying his next choice of words. "I only closed my eyes for a few minutes…I didn't realize..."

"It only takes a second, kitten." Jack's tone had taken a quieter, more wiser tone than before that startled Rhys and he realized something; him and Jack were having a _moment._ He could feel his cheeks and his ears getting warm at the thought, the familiar annoying flutter in his chest creeping up on him before he could fight it off.

As soon as the moment happened it was no longer there. Jack stood up abruptly, the hand that gripped his chin let go and extended out for Rhys to grab hold. In turn he looked up at the older man with wide confused eyes, which was met with a wide toothy grin.

"C'mon, pumpkin. We'll come back here later. That little bastard's camp shouldn't be too far. Knowing them they travel in packs. Well..." he let out a chuckle that turned Rhys' blood cold.

"...Let's go wreck their shit up, shall we?"

True to Jack's hunch, it wasn't a very long journey before they found the dead psycho's campsite where they discovered two lone bandits huddled around a makeshift fire listening to propaganda from a tiny radio, random belongings scattered around them. Both the CEO and PA were crouched behind a large rock nearby, keeping out of sight – which was Rhys' idea that had won from a small argument on the trip there. It was either that or Jack busted in guns blazing.

"I wish I could hear what station they have on," Rhys whispered, "sounds like Hyperion broadcasting."

"That's nice, pumpkin." Jack didn't seem like he was listening to him, instead he eyed the skewered meat cooking above the fire. "Oh man, you smell that? God, I just realized how hungry I am."

The auburn-haired man rolled his eyes, but remained vigilant. "Maybe they have an echo communicator."

"Let's find out." Jack cocked his pistol and made to stand but was jerked back by the tug on his jacket. He looked down and met Rhys' frantic expression. "What are you doing?" he hissed, and Jack merely raised a questionable eyebrow at his young adviser. He waggled the gun in his hand. "What do you think?"

Rhys frowned. "Do we have to kill them? Can't we just...knock em out and take their stuff?" His question was answered with a pained groan.

"Rhysie, sweetheart, babycakes, _must_ you make things harder than they should be?"

With full intention of arguing his case Rhys was immediately silenced when they heard the conversation between the two bandits, and he crouched lower bringing Jack down with him who for once gave in to Rhys' request and listened to the conversation.

"Do you believe what they're saying all over the radio, Mike? It's on every station."

Mike, the other bandit, gave a muffled answer like he was talking through a mouth full of food. "Nah. It's repetitive at this point. Said the same crap a few years ago, then six months ago something different. And now this….bah, it's all nonsense."

"You think so?"

"Don't get your hopes up. I'll give it _three_ months this time before they say he's come back good as new."

There was a pause. "...the man's a fucking demon. Just never stays down, ya know?"

Jack and Rhys exchanged questionable glances. Were they talking about Jack?

One of the bandits busted out laughing, assuming it was Mike with the way he almost choked on his food. "Demon doesn't even begin to describe it. He's like the fucking Satan of this Hell."

Rhys rolled his eyes again and turned his attention back to the camp when Jack grinned smugly, almost _bashfully_. "Yeah, they're talking about me." Good lord, how a comment like that could stroke any ego he'd never know and frankly didn't want to.

The bandits continued their small talk. "I've heard rumors and such, about the destroyed towns and eridium experimentation, but that's about it."

"Oh, I've heard worse. Do you know what he did to his own daughter?"

 _Oh, fuck._ Rhys palmed his face with his flesh hand. The poor bastards have unknowingly just signed their own death certificate. Every lizard, tree, and sensible human knew the first rule about Handsome Jack. _Never, ever,_ bring up his family. And he could practically feel the heat radiating off Jack after that foolish comment.

"Jack...I know you want to kill them, but _please_ , let's just…Jack? Jack?" When he finally raised his head to look at the other man, he found that he wasn't even there. Oh crap. This wasn't good–

"AAAAAGH!"

Rhys popped up from behind the rock instantly and gasped. One of the bandits were laid sprawled out and face down in the dirt, the other dangling in the air by his neck, squirming under the crushing grip of Jack's hand clenching around his throat. Acting fast he scrambled from behind the rock and ran over to the campsite, stepping over the body and approaching Jack with extreme caution.

He froze when he caught a glimpse of the twisted snarl on Jack's face, mimicking a rabid animal with all the mindless intent of ripping someone to shreds.

"You stupid stupid little bitch…don't you _ever_ fucking talk about her….like you fucking knew _her."_

Rhys for the life of him knew not to intervene, knowing well this man's death would alleviate the pain of the sensitive nerve he clearly stomped on by mentioning Jack's daughter. The radio's broadcast caught his attention then, and he gladly turned away from the scene before him to focus on what had spurred the topic of the bandit's earlier conversation.

Another strangled cry sounded through the camp, most likely from Jack clenching his fist around the Pandoran's windpipe. "Y-You're…the devil…."

"You're _goddamn_ right I am."

With a sickening _snap_ the body stopped it's manic squirming and fell limp. Either Jack didn't notice or he was still absorbed in his bloodthirst, he dropped the body to the ground and proceeded to stomp the corpse repeatedly.

Whatever was going on in the world around Rhys was lost to him. His lungs burned, and he realized he had stopped breathing when panic seized his body, limbs hanging numbly at his sides. Brown and blue eyes stared at the little radio as if it was the cause of all his life's problems, his physical pains, his inner turmoil.

"... _Jack_ …." he managed a whisper that sounded miles away from his ears.

Through his current blind rage Jack must have caught the despair in the younger man's voice and he stopped kicking the lifeless body to turn to watch Rhys staring at the radio, following his eyes to stare at the object, his ears picking up the automated voice soon after.

" _This is an urgent Hyperion announcement. It comes with great sorrow to confirm the deaths of Hyperion President and CEO Handsome Jack and his Personal Adviser Rhys, who met their heroic demise earlier this evening due to an unfortunate shuttle explosion on their return to Helios. Their remains have been incinerated along with the crew aboard the ship. No further details have been brought to light. The board has announced the campaign for the available positions to begin effective immediately..."_

The broadcast continued to repeat itself over and over, Rhys tore his gaze away slowly to lock eyes with Jack, who had mimicked the same action. They both stared at each other, the same wide realization setting in.

With one simple broadcast, it became evident that as far as the entire universe was concerned, Jack and Rhys no longer existed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Hyperion broadcast sounded for what must have been the twelfth time, and like the last dozen times Rhys sat in front of the radio and stared blankly, as if the next transmission would say something different. But he knew better, and ever since his knees had given out on him all he could do was sit in the sand and stare at that _stupid little radio._

Well, at least he wasn't doing any better than Jack. While he kept his aimless attention on the receiver, the newly appointed _ex_ -CEO glared intently at Helios, head raised aloft, his body stiff and his hands planted on his hips. He'd held that pose since the second announcement of their deaths, almost resembling one of his many gigantic statues throughout Hyperion. The man was either extremely pissed or extremely absorbed in his contemplation. Knowing Jack, it was most likely a perfect combination of the two.

If looks could kill, and with Jack's they often did, then Helios would be a smoldering heap of exploded metal in the sky.

Rhys followed Jack's hard stare to gaze up at the massive space station, watching with significantly less fury than the other man and instead more forlornly. The colossal yellow glowing eye between the towers almost seemed to stare back resembling an intense unblinking leer, as if to say to the world _no, dumbasses, they are right there. And they look like shit._

Strange how the fabricated voice for Helios sounded an awful lot like Jacks.

"Hey, dumdum."

With a jolt the adviser whirled his head back to look up. In the time frame he'd been gawking at the orbiting corporation above Jack had managed to tower over him, forgetting to remove the twisted scowl from his face that made Rhys inch back in caution. "J-Jack?" Oh no, was he about to get beaten to quell the man's boiling rage? Well, it technically may have stated somewhere in the contract of his job description that he was to be a human punching bag to Jack's inept temper when the moment called for it, and even though he'd never exercised it, there was a first for everything.

When he heard the pops of Jack's knuckles from his clenching fists, Rhys closed his eyes with a wince and readied for a smack, a punch, a kick, strangulation, whatever the older man would dish out on him. When nothing happened he chanced a glimpse on what he expected would be a raised fist coming at him, but what he got instead was a raised eyebrow.

"What are you _doing_?"

Rhys blinked repeatedly at the question. "I...uh, I thought...you were gonna...hit me?"

Jack tilted his head, giving him a quizzical look. "Hit you? Why would I...what, you want me to?"

"No! It's just," in a moment of insecurity his metal arm lifted to rub the back of his neck. How was he going to put this in the most levelheaded way without setting the man off? "Well, you _did_ just find out you're dead and the corporation you've ruled for years are already searching for your replacement–Ouch!" Rhys quickly grabbed the back of his head and rubbed sorely where Jack smacked him.

"Thanks for the reminder, really. You're Advising skills are flawless."

Okay, maybe he deserved that one. Better than being beaten by far. And as Jack turned his attention on the objects scattered about the camp, it became apparent that something was very off about his demeanor; he was taking this whole pronounced-dead-and-being-replaced thing _waaaay_ too calmly. Actually, watching him search around the camp nudging objects with his foot curiously as if he had nothing better to do was more terrifying than his rage shooting everything in sight and screaming threats at anything with a pulse. At least that was normal. This indifferent collected Jack was _not_ normal.

"Oh-ho? What do we have here?" Jack crouched to a makeshift pallet of worn blankets near the fire, digging out a bottle containing a brown substance. He stood and held the bottle up to further inspect it, popped the cork off the top and held the rim under his nose, and immediately ripped it away with a snort. "Damn," he chuckled, "these scum suckers were drinking some strong stuff." To Rhys' dismay Jack tipped the bottle back to take what started as a sip, which then turned to one gulp after another.

"Uh...hey you–?" He was hushed by a long index finger raised at him to _hold that thought,_ and with an agitated pout Rhys waited until the older man was done chugging his fill before leaning his head back with a rough satisfied sigh. "Ah, I needed that," he laughed, corked the bottle, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket with a few pats. "Papa's gonna enjoy you later, sweet thing."

 _'Oh for the love of….'_

"Hey, check this out, pumpkin. I found something for ya."

Something was thrown his way, sliding through the sand to stop just short of Rhys' knees. He eyed the object curiously before reaching his cybernetic hand out to grasp it. He couldn't feel the texture, but he was certain it was an expensive type of black leather, from an animal he wasn't quite sure of, wrapped and sewn around a long sheath. The hilt of the object wrapped in unique patterns with the same type of leather only thinner. Definitely aged from prior use, but still in pretty good condition. He smoothed the palm of his flesh hand over the rough texture of the leather and the stitches.

"Whaddya think, kiddo? I'll let you hold onto it if you promise not to chop your own freakin head off."

Ignoring the other man's diatribe, Rhys stared at his new weapon unable to stop himself from smiling. He had to admit he was never one for guns – a trigger happy boss will do that to you, not to mention he never got use to the recoils – but he never got the opportunity to try his hand at a sword. Other than the decorative antique set he kept mounted on his wall in his bedroom, for the record it was _completely_ normal and _not_ nerdy for a grown man to have decorative antique swords, he was always too busy climbing the corporate ladder and figuratively slipping on the blood of backstabbed coworkers to make his way to the top to focus on swordsmanship, or any kind of physical combat for that matter.

"This..." Rhys sucked in a gasp when he released the sword from its sheath, watching the glimmering metal slide out of it's durance, stretching his arm out to accommodate the space it needed to fully unveil itself. It was sharp, it was long, it was powerful, it was…

"So...freaking... _awesome!"_ Rhys didn't even care that his voice cracked like a puberty stricken teenager, didn't care that right now he was stranded out in the middle of nowhere with his sadistic boss, could give two shits about his growing dehydration. He had _the_ coolest sword right now. He turned to Jack with a wild grin and realized the man had been watching him the entire time, meeting his ecstatic expression with a surprised look of his own, as if the man had seen something in Rhys he'd never seen before. That made two of them, because Rhys couldn't say he'd ever been given that kind of look before, but what the hell, he had just been given a badass weapon. Nothing could ruin this for him.

As if caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Jack cleared his throat and leaned on one hip, tearing his eyes away to look at seemingly anything but his young adviser with a haughty snort.

"Take a cold shower, wouldya? It's just a crappy little butter knife."

Still grinning Rhys sheathed the sword, held it firmly in his flesh hand, and put his metal hand on his knee to lift himself up, instantly regretting the action when a blunt ache crawled up the right side of his back forcing him to a crunched sitting position, hand dropping the sword next to him to instinctively clutch his side. He bit back the hiss that threatened to slip between his lips. Okay, whatever that was, it _really_ hurt.

Consumed in the sudden shock of pain Rhys failed to notice the narrowing of a sideways glance, watching his slip-up silently.

Rhys recovered quickly when Jack began walking up to him, playing off the abrupt pain like he was posing for some invisible camera, his winced smile giving away his discomfort. Whether Jack acknowledged it or not he said nothing about it, striding almost past him before stopping short to clench a massive hand around his forearm and lift him to his feet weightlessly.

"C'mon, we can't keep dickin around here. Grab what you think is useful and let's head back to the cave. Time's a wasting."

The comment had Rhys whirl his head in Jack's direction, careful not to bump into the other man because all of a sudden they were so _very_ close, almost chest to chest and Jack's iron grip still latched around his forearm. It also didn't help that they were basically the same height, the infinitesimal inch difference that Rhys had over him was never dared to be mentioned aloud.

"Uh, that's fine, but...why do we have to hurry?"

His answer was an immediate flipped switch. Jack's chest rumbled with a deep chuckle that most certainly did _not_ sound like the comical one from before. _This_ laugh sounded like he had just set fire to an entire town and watched it burn from the top of a hill.

"So cute when you're playing dumb. Isn't it obvious? We're going to Helios, kitten." And before Rhys could retort the obvious back to him, that it would take a lot more time than what was expected, that they basically had to start from scratch to get home, Jack leaned in dangerously close until their noses practically touched. Rhys felt his skin prickle at the phantom electricity in the air, or was that Jack's aura? He couldn't make sense of anything anymore, not when the man was _so damn_ _close_ to him, a sinister smile tugging at the corner of his lips and eyes burning with so much bloodlust it turned him pale at the sight.

With one strong hand on his arm another gripped his chin, holding his head steady as a rough thumb played at his bottom lip, a hot breath danced on his now reddened cheeks that spread to his ears.

"Because when I'm done ravaging this filthy excuse of a planet..." Jack's voice was low and rough, "...I'm going to rip through that space station so fast those bastard's heads will fucking spin...on spikes...that will decorate the Hub of Heroism as a friendly little reminder of why you shouldn't mess with Handsome _goddamn_ Jack and what's his." In emphasis the hand on his arm and the one on his chin squeezed, erupting a silent gasp of air from Rhys' lungs.

All at once the touch had vanished, the skin burning where Jack had touched him. He stood there, numbly, and watched Jack's retreating back. He paused once next to the fire to rip the roasting meat shishkobab from above the flames, taking a bite out of a section of the meat as if it wasn't hot as hell and previously roasting in red hot flames.

Continuing his pace, Jack raised a finger at Rhys without turning around, wagging the finger in a back and forth motion.

"Tick Tock, Rhysie."

A sudden thought popped into Rhys' head. And just once, vowing to never say it aloud, that he could agree with the dead bandit's last words which played in his mind like a broken record.

Hours later, when the sun had managed to dip past the top of the distant mountains taking with it the daytime sounds of Pandoran wildlife in exchange for the croaks and chirps of the evening, Rhys huddled as close as he could to the crackling fire seeking the warmth without getting caught on fire. A shiver racked his frame from his hips to his shoulders, the knots in the muscles in his back screaming at him.

He wasn't quite sure what hurt his back more; the chill in the air or the repercussions of his mispronounced death weighing on his shoulders.

There were a lot of people depending on him.

The assurance he always gave Vaughn to wipe the concerned frown from his face, telling him everything would be okay and he most certainly would _not_ be assassinated, poisoned, shot into space by Jack, or blown into pieces. He could just see the look on his best friend's face now, bitterness of an _I told you so, asshole_ contorted with devastation.

Fiona and Sasha would probably have a similar reaction –well, more _I told you so_ and less devastated, and one would probably have lost a bet to the other. But this was the last of Rhys' concerns with the two ex-con artists. Wherever they were in this world; Fiona the rookie Vault Hunter in whatever galaxy she's currently venturing through, and Sasha gallivanting God-knows-where with August by her side, would definitely find out about this, would shake their heads and mock the promise he made them.

If only Rhys could tell them at this very moment that he was not someone to break promises, that he was very much alive, and the deal they struck had actually been in motion for three months. Three months of so much overtime he never thought the bloodshot would leave his eyes or the bags under them would ever go away. Investing millions soon-to-be billions of dollars directly from his personal bank accounts, thank God for free lunches or he'd have starved to death by now, to ensure this operation was well funded and the accountants would not notice large quantities of money leaving corporate accounts for some highly classified file layered in access codes and security walls and not bothering to bring this to Jack's attention.

Oh yeah, that tiny little detail he had forgotten to mention. Jack didn't know anything about his little side project. Neither did Vaughn for that matter, but he wasn't worried about Vaughn horrifically dismembering him like Jack surely would if ever finding out about it. So far he could say he was proud of himself that he could hide this one operation from Jack's radar.

Rhys then pulled his intent stare at the flames to steal a glance above the fire to the devil himself. Body stretched out with one ankle hooked over the other, shoulders resting against the wall of the cave, two hands loosely clutching the tipping bottle of alcohol to his chest, Jack had remained in that position for the past hour or so, eyes closed and head tilted back against the wall. He knew the man wasn't sleeping, that much was obvious, and he wasn't drunk either. He was just...sitting there, silently.

A tinge of guilt overcame Rhys at the thought of keeping a secret from the man. He had planned to tell him eventually of his private investments and operations...he just preferred a lot later than sooner, that maybe Jack would see it for what it is and actually come to understand his intentions….

"Stop staring at me, cupcake."

Rhys blinked furiously at the words intruding his thoughts, coming to the embarrassing realization that he had indeed been staring at Jack the entire time he was consumed on the topics in his head. What was worse was Jack hadn't even opened his eyes, it was _that_ obvious.

"I-I wasn't staring at you." Rhys stuttered weakly, the blush staining his cheeks thankfully going unnoticed.

Jack snorted. "Yeah, sure you weren't. S'all right, can't blame you for sneakin a peak." He flashed a lazy grin.

"..." Rhys rolled his eyes, saying nothing.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, kitten."

"Wha? How'd you even…?"

This time Jack cracked his blue eye open at Rhys, his grin only growing wider. "News flash, kiddo, I lived in your head for a while. Your reactions are _so_ predictable."

The younger man kept quiet, letting the frustrated pout say it all and hopefully not the blush. They stayed quiet for a moment, letting the sounds of the crackling flames fill the cave. When Jack spoke again his tone had taken on a more inquisitive edge. "So, whatcha thinking about? Well, besides me of course."

Technically he _was_ thinking about the older man. _'About how I'm keeping a huge secret from you, and that you'll mutilate me if you ever found out about it.'_ Rhys shrugged and instead indulged the question with another honest answer.

"Just...thinking about my friends…." When he got no reply he looked back up to the other man and noticed both eyes were closed and he remained still. And then the notion came over him; that was one way to kill a conversation. How does one talk about friends to someone who has none?

One thought struck another. Jack had no living relatives as far as Rhys knew, no one of mention that he ever spoke fondly about. Was...was Rhys the closest thing to a _friend_ that Jack had? Well, he wouldn't go as far as assuming Jack considered him a friend. Personal Adviser, punching bag, ex-meat prison, but friend? He never thought about that before.

"Typical Rhys," the rumbling chuckle drowned out the fire's melody and brought Rhys' attention back to man on the other side of it. His brows knit in confusion.

Jack continued, this time suspiciously slurred. "Always thinking about everyone else but never yourself. S'what probably makes you so friggin ditzy."

Was that supposed to be a jab at him? He wasn't quite sure how to take that comment, but he felt a tinge of irritation prod at his nerves.

Jack titled the bottle to his lips, adding in smugly before taking a sip, "You remind me of me when I was your age, putting _everyone_ first. You'll learn what that does to you soon enough when they stick a dagger in your back."

Rhys could feel his hands tense at his sides, his eyes narrowing when Jack's words were becoming patronizing. He could deal with the insults to his person, the name calling, the constant verbal harassment, but when it came to the loyalty of his friends….

Before he could stop himself, he let out a quiet growl in retort. "I'd rather they stab _me_ instead of themselves to get _away_ from me." _Oh. Balls._ Rhys immediately regretted saying something so stupid. Jack suddenly stopped sipping from the bottle, holding it to his now vicious snarl, both green and blue eyes suddenly open and staring in angry disbelief.

"The hell you just say?"

Okay, time to get the fuck out. Rhys lifted himself up, ignoring the eyes following him and the sudden burning ache of his back with his movements, and turned to leave the cave. "I'm gonna get more firewood." He threw back hastily, a shake in his tone he hoped went unnoticed.

"Get back here, you little shit!"

How Jack had closed the distance between them so fast was unreal, and he felt a heavy force wrap around his cybernetic arm and flip him around so fast it almost gave him whiplash. He was expecting to be thrown right into a fist, or the next hand to grab him would be around his throat. What he wasn't expecting, however, was the pain in his back to erupt full force at that moment, pulling a harsh cry from Rhys' throat and taking his legs out from under him. The grip on his robotic arm released and the young brunette collapsed in a shaky heap on the dirt floor, arms wrapping around his torso. Tears sprung from the corner of his eyes, teeth clenching until his jaw trembled.

"H-Hey!" Jack called out to him, more surprised than angry now. "C'mon kid, I barely friggin touched you!"

Vision blurry with pain and tears Rhys looked up at Jack towering above him, hands up like he wasn't a part of it, the prior snarl now a confused frown.

"N..No...it's…." God, it even hurt to talk, to breath, "...my back." He felt Jack crouch down next to him, hands suddenly on his shoulders pulling him up into a sitting position were...strangely gentle.

But the pain continued, and Rhys gasped, "S-Stop, Jack..." but the other man ignored him, steadying his sway with a firm hand on his shoulder, he used the other to untie the knot of his suit sleeves from around his waist. Once undone Jack made for the buttons of his undershirt and began to pluck each undone with a simple flick of his index finger and thumb in a swift skill that made the younger man sputter in shock.

Woah, hold on a sec. Was this all a part of a pain induced hallucination...or was Jack undressing him?

Rough, warm fingers burned the soft flesh of his sternum and he gasped. Okay, this _was_ real, really real, the realist moment of his life.

"J-Jack," he gasped, but not from pain, "w-what are you…?"

"Taking advantage of you." Jack deadpanned, raising an eyebrow when he noticed the obvious reddening of Rhys' face, neck, and ears at the comment. "Jeez, what's it look like I'm doing? Now shut up and hold still." His eyes went back to undressing his young adviser, leaving Rhys to stare at him as if he'd lost his damn mind. Wasn't he about to literally maim him only a few minutes ago?

Knuckles brushed his stomach, and Rhys couldn't stop his body from shuddering. He _seriously_ hoped Jack didn't notice that.

All of a sudden the shirt was being peeled off his shoulders, soft yanks pulled it down his arms to let it fall to the ground behind him. A large palm flattened on each side of his ribcage, and Rhys nearly jolted out of his skin. Jack pressed in slightly to keep him still. "Easy kiddo, I'm just checkin for...holy mother of bawls, Rhys…."

"What!?" Rhys panicked when Jack's brows shot up in alarm, eyes wide and locked onto something on Rhys' side. "What is it, is it bad?" He began to squirm, inclining his head and lifting his arm to get a better view.

Holy mother of bawls was right. The first thing he saw was an outer rim of angry red swollen skin, blending into an array of deep purple, almost blue-black flesh in a full circle down the right side of his back. He watched as Jack's fingers ghosted over the discoloration.

"The pain's coming from your ribs, kitten. A couple of them are busted up pretty good."

Rhys winced, but remained still as Jack's fingers probed the bruising. "I guess...it must have been from the fall. It just kinda crept up on me the longer we've been wandering around the desert." Jack retreated his grip on Rhys, who brushed his own fingers on the bruise careful not to apply too much pressure on it. A ripping sound tore his attention away to see Jack shredding his suit jacket with bare hands.

"Jack...why are you–?"

"Shut up, kitten. You're distracting me." And this time Rhys didn't argue. He stayed silent and watched as the older man finished tearing the jacket into long pieces of cloth. Gathering the cloth pieces he grabbed one and looped it tightly around Rhys' back and chest, starting another where the last strand ended.

If they ever survived Pandora, no one would ever believe this story. That the feared, murderous, malicious Dictator of this planet and CEO of Hyperion would be bandaging his wounded Adviser in some nowhere cave. Even Vaughn would guffaw and label it as one of Rhys' _fanboy fantasies._

For now he remained quiet, tired from the pain, awestruck from the look on Jack's face as he continued to wrap the strips of cloth around his chest. It was kind of...well, nice. Weird, but having Jack's full attention on him, hands on his chest, gliding over his bare skin, eyebrows knit in deep concentrated on Rhys' naked torso. Definitely a new experience, more intimacy than Jack had shown him before. Maybe...maybe he was wrong about Jack considering him something close to a friend?

Rhys mumbled something under his breath causing Jack to glance up from his work. "What did you say, kiddo?"

"I said..." he rubbed the back of his neck, the act becoming instinctual every time he was embarrassed or uneasy, and gave Jack a quick sideways smile, "...thanks, Jack. For...ya know…."

"Don't get soft, or I'll punch you square in the ribs. I'm doing this only cause I can't have you dragging your ass and slowing us down."

Right. Well, Jack would never admit it, but the smirk on the man's face was a good enough hint to Rhys.

Suddenly the wrapping stopped.

"Take a deep breath. This might hurt."

"Hm? What do you–Oh my God!" Jack must have tied a knot or something in the bandage, securing the makeshift bandages to his ribs. And it hurt like an absolute bitch, so much so he subconsciously arched his body away from the pain sending all his weight into Jack, hands coming up to grasp the man's shoulders tightly.

Bigger hands grabbed Rhys' waist for balance, but it was too late as Jack lost his footing and fell backwards with a grunt onto the hard ground taking the thinner man with him.

It wasn't before the pain subsided long enough for Rhys to realize what the hell just happened, but the moment he realized his face was smashed into the strong chest below him he immediately planted his hands on the ground and lifted his head up, and if it wasn't for the hands anchored on his waist keeping him in place he would have thrown himself completely off the man below him, because if someone were to walk by the entrance of this very cave at this precise moment, they'd see one half naked Rhys sprawled on top of and straddling one Handsome Jack.

He looked down expecting a snarl or a scowl at having knocked Jack onto his back. The _last_ thing he ever expected was to see a wide toothy grin and eyes twinkling with pure mischief.

"Now _this_ is the kinda thanks I'm talking about, kitten." He waggled his eyebrows, and Rhys swore his face was going to catch fire.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Why, Rhysie..." Jack's tone was _too_ sultry, or maybe Rhys had never heard him sound like that before, "I gotta say, pumpkin, this is the second time you've forced yourself on me." Thick fingers danced adroitly on his hip bones finishing with a light playful squeeze.

And oh did Rhys try his damnedest to ignore those fingers, trying to turn whatever naive wide eyed stare and boyish blush at the intimate touches into a look of pure aversion at the man's words. It seemed like eternity that they laid there, the younger man almost blanketed over his superior's body, neither making the attempt to shove the other off. Rhys could blame his lack of attempt on complete shock. Jack's excuse...well, he couldn't really say. If the man was offended Rhys would already be sporting one hell of a shiner. To his adroit it seemed to have an opposite effect, and that shit eating grin he was staring directly at was the dead giveaway.

Jack's words finally sunk in, and Rhys pursed his lips. "I...I haven't forced myself on you at all." Okay, so it was a pretty weak rebuttal. But he wasn't a pervert, dammit, and he would _not_ stand for Handsome Jack of all people to accuse _him_ of that.

"Hmph," a sarcastic snort, " _sure._ Whatever you say…." There was a pause, but Jack was obviously not finished. "I guess you can file this one away with the rest of your little fantasies, huh, sweetheart?" He added with a wink.

Rhys immediately sputtered. How did he know about...that wasn't the point. Newfound courage flooded the younger man's chest, and without thinking he pushed himself up into a sitting position and crossed his arms. He stared down at Jack, matching the smirk with a defiant glare. " _My_ fantasies? Okay, sure. Like how _my_ hands are wrapped around _your_ waist? Or do I have this the other way around?" Wow. He couldn't believe he just said that. And judging by how fast Jack's eyebrows had just shot up, neither could he.

The surprise on the older man's face was short lived, and Rhys watched with diminishing gallantry as a large toothy grin nearly split his face, eyes suddenly alight with mirth. Jack's thumbs began kneading into the hollow of Rhys' hips, hands clamping down a little harder as if to hold him place. He knew he was beginning to tread into a foreign territory with Jack, which was something he wasn't technically new to, just never instigated it like he was now. The other man could entertain himself with the material he had to work with, could keep himself entertained until he had his fill. Sadly, this was never to Rhys' benefit, because the man would push, would touch, would hiss subtle nothings in his ear with that stupid handsome smirk, and in one fail swoop would unknowingly leave Rhys a befuddled, blushing, panting mess.

But the way those thumbs worked his hips, those fingers danced, the way those eyes sparkled with a challenge...who was he fooling? He had already crossed the threshold into that dangerous territory, farther now than he ever had, and he wasn't slowing down.

"So feisty all of a sudden, kitten." Jack sat up abruptly, holding Rhys in place with his iron grip and stopping when his nose brushed the thinner man's. "But you're forgetting _who's_ sitting in _whose_ lap like a dirty little harlot."

Rhys' eyes narrowed, _not_ liking the idea of what was he was suddenly compared to. He brought his hands up to balance himself on Jack's shoulders readying to push himself up. "Fine. I'll get up, if that's what you think–"

If those large hands gripped him any tighter he swore there would be bruising, and his attempt to get off the other man was stopped short when Jack dragged him back down to grind his crotch against his causing his back to arch into the hold. Those sparkling heterochromic eyes darkened into a gaze almost animalistic.

"Aw, you mad, pumpkin? Gonna run away? I'm not surprised."

Rhys' lip twitched. That selfish, blind, narrow minded sack of...after six months of toying with him and leaving him with nothing, to get so _damn_ close, torturing him, only to back off and shut him out and do it again, and again, and…!

The hands still holding onto Jack's shoulders trembled with indignant rage, his own shoulders setting as he bristled, " _You're_ the one always running, _asshole!"_

Composure was always something Rhys prided himself on, to never break down and give in to angry outbursts. But it didn't matter anymore. He'd just succumb to his own vulnerability and lashed out at Handsome Jack, and now he would be gutted and left for dead. What a wonderful way to die, he could admit to himself, to have the last breathing moments of his life calling Jack an asshole while straddling the man half nude.

Rhys' right hip was left bare, the hand holding him there now curled into his chestnut hair latching onto his scalp with brutal force. He winced, closing his eyes and clenched his teeth to prepare for the inevitable. The hand yanked his head forward, and he found his lips crushing against Jack's.

Jolts of phantom electricity played at his nerves, comminuting every sense of his being. He remained still, feeling Jack's lips dominate his, teeth gnashing together. It was draining him; Jack was draining the life out of him and he could nothing to stop him. He...didn't want to. He didn't care. He wanted more, and he got what he wanted when he felt the other man's tongue push through his teeth to invade every space in his mouth, dancing across the back of his teeth to collide with his own tongue.

Rhys practically mewled at the sensation. Fuck it, he didn't care how pathetic he sounded. If Jack's kisses could kill he'd gladly die a whimpering mess.

Jack retracted his tongue, and snarled against Rhys' lips. "You think I _run_ from this?" The hand still on hip motioned him to rock against him, the friction creating a heat like no other, moving until Rhys began his own automatic pace. The grip on his scalp held him in place so the younger man couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.

"You...have no idea..." he hissed between breaths, "just who...the hell I am...do you?" His hand lowered to the nape of Rhys' neck, pushing the man impossibly closer to deepen the kiss. When the young adviser didn't answer Jack sucked his lip between his teeth and bit down, forcing a yelp out of him.

" _Well_?"

"Nngh...hah, y-you're...H-Handsome Jack." Rhy moaned, breaking the kiss to pull his wounded lip back and nurse it with his tongue.

"You're damn right." Jack growled, slightly panting. His eyes were feral, looking hungrily over Rhys' disheveled appearance with a smug smirk. His hips jutted up and into the younger man's, smirk growing when the action earned him an exasperated moan. He moved his hand from Rhys's neck to grab his jaw roughly, forcing him to keep his half lidded eyes locked onto his.

"And Handsome Jack doesn't _run,_ baby boy. He merely..." his eyes dropped to stare at the lips he had just attacked viciously, "doesn't want to break his pretty little kitten."

There was a pause, then a low chuckle that Rhys felt creep up his spine. "Unless you want him to?"

 _God,_ Jack talked way to much, and the third person speech was getting on his already frazzled nerves. There was only one way to shut Jack the fuck up. His hands left the broad shoulders to thrust them underneath Jack's many layers of clothing, both metal and flesh fingers clawing up the bumps and grooves of muscle. He bit his lip and gave the bigger man the most neediest look he could muster.

"Shut up and break me, Jack."

In seconds he was on his back against the cold ground, Jack between his legs and hovering inches above him, the biggest, most lecherous grin he'd ever seen the man wear. "If you insist." And dipped his head to plant his lips onto Rhys'.

Time seemed to skip like a damaged roll of film then, because the next thing Rhys knew Jack was standing up on his knees before him, impatient fingers tugging the man's pants and boxers down his thighs in one swift go. His shoes were gone at this point, somewhere he didn't give two shits about, socked feet digging into the dirt. The chilly air stung his swollen dick and he hissed, when he had gotten so hard so fast he couldn't say. He was too busy staring at the large bulge in Jack's pants to worry about his own erection.

His flesh hand had a mind of it's own, lifting up to grasp clumsily for the rim of Jack's pants, fingers clenching around the belt and tugging impatiently, giving him a flustered look of _I want it now, dammit._ Seeing this, Jack smirked, and _God,_ was it the sexiest smirk Rhys had ever seen.

"All in good time, baby." He chuckled, grabbing Rhys's hand by the wrist and pinned it firmly next to his head, leaning down to give him a chaste kiss, trailing it down his chin to plant small ones down the line of his jaw, his neck, stopping to nibble on the protrusion of the younger man's collarbone. Rhys gasped, bucking his hips upward to grind into Jacks. This was...amazing. He couldn't believe this was happening. In his fantasies they were in Jack's penthouse on luxurious satin sheets with the glow of Elpis the only light on them, or in the CEO's office bent over his massive desk as Jack pumped mercilessly into him.

Fucking on the cold dirt floor in some random cave somewhere in the Pandoran desert? Well, he could live with that too.

Jack had managed to reach his bellybutton by the time Rhys came out of his thoughts, and lifted his head to see what the man was doing.

"J-Jack, what are you—ahh!" Okay, wow, he just realized something about himself; his bellybutton was _really_ sensitive, so when Jack stuck his tongue in and swirled, he almost lost it. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the whimper, and yelped when his hand was harshly ripped away. He looked down to see Jack glaring at him.

"Don't. I want to hear you."

Rhys nodded numbly, and watched as Jack bit down on the soft flesh next to his navel, sucking on the skin and drawing out a long moan. When Jack stopped biting he drove his tongue into the thinner man's navel again, sending a ripple of shivers up his body.

"Ahn! J-Jack! F-Fuck!"

" _Language_ , sweetheart." Jack chuckled softly, crawling back up the lithe body beneath him, hovering so close above Rhys the heat of their bodies mingled. But it wasn't enough, dammit. He wanted more. He needed it. His arms shot up and wrapped around Jack's broad torso, fingers digging into his shoulder blades and lifted himself into the bigger man, chest against chest, lips connecting harshly, hungrily, as if it would be last meal he'd ever have.

The only sound he could hear over the sloppy smacking of their starved lips was the sound of Jack fumbling with his belt buckle between them, once getting the buckle undone he whipped the belt through his loops with an inhuman speed Rhys would have to inquire about later, too consumed with the smug realization that Jack's movements were hasty with an underlying hint of desperation. Good, Rhys thought rather conceitedly, that the big bastard would be just as deprived of this from his own antics of constantly toying with Rhys for months. Served him right–

Hot, thick, muscled flesh rubbed against his dick, erupting a startled moan from Rhys's mouth, tearing away from Jack's mouth to bury his face into his neck. Eyes momentarily rolling back in his own head when the mixture of Jack's cock grinding against his own, the scent of musk and sweat heavy in his nose, shit it was too much. Blunt fingertips dragged down the bigger torso above him, shaky with the overwhelming need for _more_.

"Mm, you make the best sounds, kitten," Jack moaned roughly against his ear, lips playing at the port in his temple driving him wild. "Can't wait to hear what you sound like when I'm deep in that ass."

"J-Jack...please..." _Come the fuck on and just do it,_ was the unsaid plead between them. If the man kept this up, Rhys didn't think he could hold on anymore.

He was too wasted on the pleasure to make sense of two fingers being inserted into his open panting mouth. "Suck, baby." Was the whispered command in his ear, and without complaint Rhys did as he was told, swirling his tongue around the fingers, lapping at them hungrily.

The fingers were removed soon after with a wet _pop,_ and before Rhys could collect himself he felt his legs get lifted up and spread wide, one large hand gripping his right thigh, the other hand ghosting over his ass. One wet finger played around the tight muscle agonizingly before pushing in, stretching him. Rhys let out a whined cry, hips jerking and grinding into Jack's, unable to keep his body from squirming.

"J...Jack...ah…!"

"Just relax. _That's_ it, pumpkin. Just a little more." Jack coaxed softly, almost comforting.

After a brief minute another finger was inserted, scissoring him, working _in_ , and _out,_ methodically pumping into him. Rhys opened his mouth to a silent scream. God, the man was driving him nuts with only his fingers.

"Hah, Jack…" this was dangerous, he was going to come if Jack didn't stop. He could feel the buildup, skin prickling with euphoria too much to make sense of anything else other than this own growing orgasm. No, he didn't want to come being fucked by Jack's fingers. He wanted _him,_ all of him. Inside him. _Now!_

"For...the love of...Jack... _please!_ Just fuck me already!" Rhys growled, his pout more like a halfhearted snarl. Seeing him such a state Jack paused his movements and just stared down at him, eyes wild and feral as if something just suddenly snapped within him. It would have been almost terrifying if this was any other circumstance.

"Damn I'm gonna enjoy wrecking your sweet ass, baby boy." He hissed between parted lips, and it was last words Rhys could grasp before Jack turned into a goddamn animal.

In one fluid motion Rhys was flipped onto his stomach with little time to steady himself on shaky elbows. A crushing grip on his hips soon followed, bringing his ass up high in the air, holding him firm as he felt Jack's lengthy cock fit snugly between his cheeks, spreading the saliva and precum over the tip of his cock.

Rhys shivered, dipping his head down and tucked it into the crook of his robotic arm, the burning heat of his flushed skin practically sizzling against the cool metal. He felt a large hand plant itself in the middle of his back, forcing him into an arch gently.

"Relax, sweetheart." And with that, he felt the tip of Jack's dick sink in, the girth stretching him out. The pain struck him first, causing him to instinctively jerk away, but the hand on his back kept him still, fingers squeezing in a comforting manner. Jack inched in with each slow thrust, the pain bringing tears to Rhys' eyes.

But the pleasure riding off the pain was enough to stomach through it. He wouldn't call it quits now, God no, he had been waiting for this for so long, had fantasized about this since he was a grad student. Jack was slowly filling him up, full attention on him, no one else. It was _Rhys_ underneath the powerful man, no one else.

"Uh, _fuck, Rhys_." An impatient jerk sent Rhys in a world of stars and colorful dots, and he arched up with an exasperated shout.

It was _his name_ on Handsome Jack's lips, no one else.

And Rhys loved it.

" _Jack."_ Rhys thrusted himself back into the rest of Jack's cock, completely filling him, because fuck the pain he just wanted all of Jack. Every damn bit of the man.

The Hyperion ruler let out a feral moan, landing a harsh slap on Rhys' ass, a moment of lost conscious thought or in appreciation he'll never know, didn't care to.

Their sex turned primal then, Jack losing his composure to thrust wildly into the other man, Rhys taking it all with panting cries of nonsense. Hands bruising, nails digging into soft flesh, skin slapping skin, bodies rocking wildly. The rough ground rubbed his knees and elbows raw, but he felt nothing but Jack hitting that spot that drove screams from his throat.

"You sound so good, kitten…." he could faintly hear the sweet nothings of Jack's voice through his pleasure, keeping him from completely losing it, but driving him closer all the same. "...Shit...never thought...you'd feel so...damn... _tight."_

Rhys was so close, his orgasm so close his body for readying for it, tightening around Jack's cock, back almost bending in half as one wave of ecstasy crashed into him after another. He was drowning in it.

The drowning felt real when a strong arm wrapped around him to grab his chest, lifting him with such weightless force it knocked the breath from him. He was on his knees, hands fumbling for balance and shakily clutched the forearm fastened around his chest, his back against Jack's chest, the man's sweat slicked forehead resting against the crook of his neck. Rhys dipped his own head back to let it fall on the older man's shoulder.

" _Fuck_ I'm close." He felt the words tremble on his neck, driving his own orgasm that much closer. His own dick had been bobbing against his stomach with each thrust, suddenly coming to a halt when Jack snaked a hand down his stomach, his pelvis, to grab him and stroke with wild abandonment.

"Ahh! Jack, _Jack,_ " the man's name was a pure melody on his tongue, _"Jack..._ I'm gonna...gonna cum…!"

He couldn't even get the rest of the nonsense out of his mouth before it hit him, blinding him, crawling up his nerves and prickling his skin. He came screaming Jack's name, hot sticky cum splashing across his stomach. He thought he head peaked then, but a sudden snarl in his ear ripped him from his finish as teeth clamped down onto his neck thrusting him back into that world of pure bliss.

After a few more thrusts both men went still, and Rhys allowed himself to finally go limp against the bigger body still holding him protectively, letting the arm still wrapped around him keep him upright. When the arm finally let go of him it took the remainder of his strength not to fall back to the hard ground, and he slumped forward slowly, whimpering when Jack's dick slid out of him as he went down, laying on his side not caring one bit about the dirt that would cling to his sweaty skin.

Rhys' entire world was hazy, nothing making sense or registering properly. He just kept blinking wearily, gulping the air back into his lungs, the aches and pains starting to slowly creep back into his worn body with the immense wave of exhaustion.

He could hear movement behind him, panting, shuffling, clothing being readjusted, the clicks and snaps of a belt being fastened, and lastly a hoarse chuckle.

"Damn, pumpkin. I don't even know where to begin…."

There was no strength left in Rhys to reply, preferring to just lay boneless. The other man must have noticed this, and he crouched beside him, brushing a hand over Rhys' sweaty forehead to wipe the damp bangs from his half lidded eyes.

"Hey, Rhysie, you still with me, babe? C'mon, I didn't screw you _completely_ brainless, did I?"

Despite the overwhelming tiredness, Rhys turned his head slightly and regarded Jack with a slight smile. "Kinda did…." The remark earned him a genuine laugh, deep and real and warm. It sounded nice. He'd like to hear that laugh more often.

Hands slipped under him and hooked underneath his shoulders and his knees, careful not to apply too much pressure to his injured ribs, and lifted Rhys up and into strong arms, tucking him against a broad chest. If he had any energy left he'd protest, telling Jack he'd be fine to get up on his own, that all he needed was a breather and he'd be good to drag himself up. But...to hell with it. If Jack wanted to carry him like a new fucked bride, so be it.

Soft lips pressed gently against his forehead between his brows, momentarily surprising Rhys at how affectionate the act was.

"You did good, kiddo." Jack whispered against his skin. "Tough little kitten. Get some sleep, we gotta get up early tomorrow, make up for lost time." He was carried back to the fire and laid gently between the warmth of the flames and the security of the cave wall. His pants were tugged back up his hips, something heavy, warm, and leathery fell on his bare torso. He made a mental note to thank Jack for the courtesy of fixing his clothing later.

Through heavy eyelids he watched Jack turn and walk away, toward the cave exit. He wanted to inquire where the man was going, if he'd be right back, if he'd get any rest too and if he did, maybe...would he lay next to him?

Darkness overcame him then, washing away all of the questions and pulling him into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 6 Part One

Chapter 6 Part One

"Yvette...you don't have to do this."

"Rhys, I'm sorry. I really am, but this has to be done. There's no other way."

"No, there's another way...there has to be!"

"...This is for the best."

"Y-Yvette...no! No! Don't!"

It stung, an unimaginable burn surging through his veins. The feeling of metal stabbing into his skin was like no other.

"Aaagh! Yvette, why!?"

"Oh for God's sake, you big baby! It's just a needle!"

Yvette's cold fingers applied pressure to the spot on his shoulder where the needle stuck in, slowly withdrawing the syringe and swapping it swiftly with a cotton ball and a band aid, giving the spot a nice smack. Rhys whined and jerked his arm from Yvette's reach, giving her his best betrayed look.

"At least now you won't get Krom's Fever. I heard that one of the symptoms is uncontrollably explosive bowels." Vaughn stated, leaning against the wall on the other side of the small white room, watching Rhys' fear of needles with a poorly hidden smirk.

"Sounds better than this." Rhys grumbled, leaning away when Yvette pulled out yet another syringe, the twisted smile on her painted lips just as frightening as the glimmering needle.

"If you're going down there for a week you're going to need the proper shots. Pandoran viruses aren't like the ones we are use to." Yvette said matter-of-factly.

"Vaughn and I were there like two weeks and we didn't get anything."

"Which was a miracle, mind you." Vaughn snorted, shrugging when Rhys shot him a _who's side are you on?_ glare.

"This one's for the Rakk Mumps." And without warning Yvette stuck the needle in the crease of Rhys' elbow while he wasn't paying attention, ripping a high-pitched yelp from the tall man.

"What is wrong with you!?" Rhys shrieked, "That's not how you give someone a shot!"

"It is when they're being a huge bitch about it."

Vaughn let out a loud laugh and Rhys sputtered indignantly.

"Seriously, Rhys." Yvette said, suddenly more composed and serious. "Be careful down there. Especially with who you're going with."

Rhys blinked, glare switching to a curious look. He glanced between Yvette to Vaughn, both now wearing a completely different face, one more solemn and concerned. "I'll be okay. It's just a routine check in on some of the Eridium mines. Jack does these all the time." He offered a smile of reassurance at his two best friends.

"Is there anything wooden in this room? I need to knock on it." Vaughn adjusted his spectacles on the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, fixing his position on the wall to lean more comfortably.

"Cut it out," Rhys replied with a roll of his eyes, "nothing's going to happen. I'll be fine. You guys worry too much."

"Can you blame us?" Yvette said. She finished applying another band aid and threw the wrappers in the waste bin next to her. "You're going to Pandora with Handsome Jack."

Vaughn added, "Yeah. I mean, six months ago Hyperion announced his return. The planet is still in an all-out uproar over the news. It's like throwing a couple of lambs in a lions den."

"Okay, one; don't let Jack hear you comparing him to a lamb. And two," Rhys stood up from his chair, shoving his exposed arm through the sleeve of his shirt, "we'll be out in the desert, surrounded by heavy security, loader bots, the works. Nothing is going to go wrong. This won't be like last time."

Both Yvette and Vaughn exchanged worried glances, Rhys being in the middle only scoffed at the two and finished buttoning his shirt.

"Wait, you still have one more." Yvette reached for the table.

"Ugh, please, no more of this. I feel like a pin cushion."

"Hush, Cry Baby. This one is going in your port." She produced a small flash drive from the tray on the table, piquing both Rhys and Vaughn's interest as they stared at the woman curiously. It was a small, sleek, simple black drive with a yellow _H_ printed on the flat of the devise.

"I didn't know we had those." Vaughn said.

"You'll need vaccinations for every type of virus on Pandora."

Manicured nails gripped Rhys' jaw softly, holding him still as Yvette leaned in close and clicked the flash drive into Rhys' port. He flinched, not expecting the suddenness of it all, eyes straining to his left where Yvette's hand held the tiny object to his temple.

"Am I, uh, suppose to feel anything?"

"You may hear some ringing every now and then. Just ignore it."

"Okay. How long does this–"

" _Rhys_."

Blurs of colors swarmed his vision, spinning around him like a carousel. He could hear frantic sirens blaring in his ear, voices shouting fearfully, commotion of movement bringing everything in one clustered noise in all direction.

" _Rhys_!"

 _Jack_? Somewhere through the blurred movement and blaring noise he could hear him shouting, calling out to him. Where was he?

" _Sir! We can't avoid the next one! It's a seeker!"_ It was the shuttle's pilot, voice shredded with sheer panic. What was going on? Before he could make sense of his surroundings a hard force came down on his back, throwing him off balance and he collided with the unforgiving metal of the floor beneath him.

" _Jack…!?"_

" _Rhys_." The voice that replied was not Jack's anymore. This voice was strangely tranquil compared to everything else around him, pitch light and unwavering.

"Get your ass up, Sleeping Beauty!"

Rhys launched himself up, hands grabbing his chest to quell his frantic heart. "Explosive needles..!" He shouted incoherently and ripped the leather jacket off of him. The blur of his dreams dissipated to the dark walls of the cave, the fire's dim ember glow allowing enough light for Rhys to see Jack's broad silhouette standing over him, hands on his hips and body tilted towards him. The orange glare of the dying flame shined in his eyes, the only part of Jack's features he could clearly make out.

"Rise and shine, sweet cheeks." That tone meant nothing good, and Rhys could see it clearly in the glimmer of a pearly white grin. It reminded Rhys fondly of an ancient children's folktale he'd been told as a kid; something about a little girl falling down a hole and a grinning, disappearing cat.

Jack chose then to lean down, nearly hovering above Rhys. His eyes burned through the darkness.

"We gotta train to catch."

The Hyperion Transit SK7 was a beauty only few on Helios had ever witnessed in person. Rhys had only seen these trains in company issued magazines; a whole multi page article explaining the vast capabilities and technological advances about the SK model line.

Rhys never was a car guy, that was Vaughn's department, but trains intrigued him greatly.

Even from yards away, perched upon a cliff staring down at the silver body gleaming at the florescent construction lights that shined above it, it was an amazing sight.

A gust of night air whipped through Rhys' hair and blew a few of his brown locks into his face. He ran his flesh hand over his hair to straighten it back into place. He scrunched his shoulders, hugging the brown leather jacket to himself closer and lavishing in the warmth trapped within with the scent of musk, singed leather, and gunpowder. The fact that he was still wearing the jacket still came as much as a shock to him as the moment he awoke, shimmying off the jacket to hand it back only to have it pushed back in his arms with a grunted _keep it for now_. He was thankful for the subtle act of generosity, because with only a light undershirt and business slacks, the desert night air could easily cut through the thin fabric to chill his bones.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" came a chuckle from his left. Rhys glanced over to look at a brightly smiling Jack, his signature hands-on-hips posture giving off a proud air. He stood at the very edge of the cliff looking down like a looming hawk who'd caught their field mouse.

Rhys glanced back down at the train station, imitating Jack's smile. "An actual Hyperion Transit SK7," he whispered breathlessly, "fastest speed recorded was 483 kilometers per hour, maximum operating speed at 395. Can take you from Trash Cove to Lockdown Palace in just 8 hours." He flinched when his reply was a sharp snort. He looked up and saw Jack staring at him with one eyebrow quirked.

He blanched at the stare, rubbing one hand on the back of his neck and smiled awkwardly. "Oh, uh, did I just go full nerd again? Sorry..."

"Yeah, kinda did. Didn't know you were into trains, kiddo." His tone was less antagonistic and more...light, as if he was impressed, his gaze curious instead of judging. Rhys practically beamed when he realized this.

" _Well_ ," he couldn't hold back the affectatious tone, chuckling, "I know some things about trains. Especially the SK line. They broke ground for the advancement of travel on Pandora. I thought they were all scrapped after you die..." his words dwindled when Jack shot him a daring look, "..d-were gone for a while."

"How'd you find this one?" Good save.

"She called out to me, like a big beautiful harpy." Jack folded his arms over his chest and smirked like a proud parent. "Literally. Few hours after you passed out in a sex coma I kept hearing something from the East, like a horn blowing. Knew instantly what it was."

"The thing about the SK7," he continued, "is that I designed this specific train to operate as a Automaton in the event that if something were to ever happen to me and these scum suckers were to tear it apart in some psychotic revolution, this cargo train could act on its own, could run continuously and never stay in the same spot for very long. She makes random, untimed stops to charge so you can never plan her next rest stop. She's not an easy bitch to take down, I can tell ya that."

Rhys listened to Jack quietly, mouth slightly ajar and eyes sparkling. He wasn't sure if the sex coma comment had caused the feint blush on his cheeks, or if it was Jack going on about his brilliant advancements and creations. Most likely the latter. Getting to know Jack and personally working under him had taken away some of the luster that was the amazing, impenetrable Hero of Hyperion, but in these moments he realized that behind the mask, literally, of arrogance and power, Jack was an extremely intelligent man, whose brilliance in engineering and programming knew no bounds. His flaws lied in his incapability to relate to others, to dictate and control to the point of abuse, but to never be able to keep the affection of another being for very long due to his serious trust issues, but for what he lacked in other areas he made up for in coding and engineering. Truly, it was something Rhys could only describe as astounding.

"Got the idea after a bad breakup, so yeah, I was pretty hammered when I designed her. Kinda proud about that one."

Truly astounding.

"C'mon, pumpkin, we'll miss her if we stand here talking all night. Let's get going." Rhys felt a grip on his elbow tug him forward. They began down the incline on the side of the cliff.

"W-Wait, we're getting on that thing?" Rhys stuttered, not sure if more anxious or excited.

"Weren't you listening, dumdum? The SK7 is fully self-operational. And she never stays in one spot for very long. Pick those spider ant legs up and get going, kiddo. This is our ticket home."

Rhys nodded and as soon as Jack let go of his hold to hurry down the side of the cliff he made to follow right behind, but stopped just short after only a few steps.

"Are you sure this is the right way down?"

"Don't question my direction when you're more backasswards than a blind skag, kitten."

Rhys shrugged. Why did he even bother…

A small noise sounded behind him, so meager he almost missed it had it not spiked in volume so suddenly after he heard it. Ringing? Buzzing? Strangely it sounded like a combination of both, like a strange and abrupt tinnitus in his ear. Subconsciously he inserted a finger in his ear and wagged it trying to rid himself of the noise, but it didn't stop.

There was a direction to the noise, stemming not in his head but from behind him. He turned to look around, staring blankly into the darkness. Eyes scanned the surrounding area; where the hell was that noise coming from?

He quickly glanced ahead to Jack, the man now farther ahead and silhouette disappearing into the dark. Obviously he didn't hear it or he would have inquired about it. It was only him that the noise was calling to...

Was it calling to him? A chill creeped up Rhys' spine; he'd rather not think of it like that.

"Rhys! Train! Now!"

The sound stopped, leaving nothing but an overbearing silence. He shook his head; what the hell was that all of a sudden? Perhaps the dehydration was finally catching up to him, or the lack of sleep, or hell, why not both? His brain could only take so much deprivation.

Rhys hurried his pace toward Jack's angry shout, hoping to God there was some water stored on the train. He was starting to lose his mind, shivering when for a split second he could have sworn he saw the outline of silhouettes in the pitch black night around him. Hallucinations, he told himself, that's all they were.

The train station was a small, partially completed building that looked as if it hadn't been occupied in some time, giving off the haunting ghost-town like vibe. It was quiet save for the light humming of the train's motors. The loading bay extended out between the incomplete building and the train, no roof, instead tall piers with guarded florescent light fixtures perched high above them, probably giving light the overnight construction.

Rhys' eyes searched over everything around him in awe. He'd never been in a legitimate train station before. Even if it was partially built and abandoned, a little graffiti hear and there, it was still an amazing experience. He wondered around aimlessly before stopping in front of the door to the train. He smiled softly, raising his flesh hand to flatten it against the cool metal, could feel the hum against his fingers. He retracted his hand hastily when Jack came jogging into his line of vision.

"Okay, so, good news first; she seems to be running fine. Wonderful! Bad news; she doesn't seem to be at full capacity. Not so wonderful."

Rhys tilted his head. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Jack stopped only a few feet from Rhys, sighing to catch his breath and shrugged, "either she's coded to operate on an energy saver, or she hasn't been serviced well in a while, but the ride won't be as fast as you're expecting, kiddo. A little bumpier too."

Rhys shrugged, turning his attention back to the door. "As long as it can get us out of this desert, I'm fine with that." He placed his metal hand on the handle of the door, the other hand on the opening. Relying on the strength of his cybernetic hand he tried wrenching the door open. One heave, a few jerks, he even tried shaking it a little. But the door simply wouldn't open.

"Heh, little tougher than I thought. Just needs some _mmph_ ," he gave another jerk. Nothing. "Maybe a little... _nngh_ ," he put his foot on side of the door and pulled again. Still nothing. Damn door.

"I don't _ungh_ think we're gonna _hmmph_ be able to get in this way, Jack. I think this door's jammed or...ouch! Oh, oh my ribs..."

A hand reached over Rhys' side and touched the smooth metal exterior, watching as bright digital numbers materialized. Fingers danced upon the numbers until there was a green light and a soft ding. The door moved on it's own then, taking Rhys with it as it shifted out and to the side. Jack withdrew one of his pistols, Rita from what Rhys could tell, and pointed it into the entrance.

Once Jack was sure the coast was clear he lowered his gun, set his shoulders, and tilted his head to meet Rhys' squinted glare, the younger man's body still gripping the door.

"You know," Rhys huffed and removed himself from the door, "you could have said something a little earlier."

"Nah, wanted to see how you were at problem solving these kinds of situations. Like, as if I would design this freakin thing and not make it withstand a stringbean trying to caveman his way in with his weak boy arm and busted ribs."

They crept slowly into the train, Jack leading the way with his gun at the ready. The inside of the train was surprisingly not as sleek and upgraded as Rhys would have imagined, but it was still a marveling site. The ceiling was lit by dim LED lights allowing Rhys to see the rest of the interior. Two long rows of seats adorned each side of the train allowing a roomy carpeted walkway between them. Above the rows of seats were luggage compartments, and implanted in the back of each seat was a small flat screen, for entertainment or instructions he wasn't sure the reason.

Rhys ran his flesh hand down the side of one of the seats, enjoying the soft leather under his fingertips. Jack stepped around him to pop open every luggage compartment and inspecting inside, searching for something Rhys wasn't sure of.

"What are you looking for?"

"These compartments usually contained small snacks, little bottles of booz, blankets, ya know that first class luxury crap. Seems like this place's been cleaned out." He threw the open the last compartment and finding nothing decided to shove it closed with a huff.

The blaring sound of a horn met Rhys' ears, and he felt the momentum of the train's movement nudge him back.

"So, what's our next destination?"

Jack shrugged. "Dunno, just glad to be out of that freakin desert. I got sand in so many places it'll take months to clean it all off." He walked up to the door at the head of the room that lead to the next area.

"There should be a communicator in the control room. We send a signal to those douchebags on Helios, time a shuttle down as the train comes to it's next stop. We hop on the shuttle, get home, strangle the morons that pronounced us dead, airlock half the board, Jack eats steak and hibernates for a week. Sound like a plan, Rhysie?"

"Sounds like a good one to me." Rhys laughed, finding himself in a much lighter mood than he's been in for the past couple days. This was it; their ticket home. In hopefully less than a day he'll be showered and snuggled in his bed. It was practically in arms reach. He never thought a simple shower would sound so tantalizing.

"I could just taste that steak now. Mooing on my freakin plate. Poor some gravy on that bitch. God, I can't wait!" Jack chuckled, and Rhys smiled knowing that was the most genuine laugh he'd heard from the man in a while. "How about you, cupcake?"

"Hm? Oh, obviously my bed, binge on EchoFlix for a few days..." of all the things Rhys could do once he got home, one thought popped into his head, one that paused him in mid sentence. Last night. What would come out of that? Would they resume their Boss and Assistant routine, as if fucking in some dank cave never happened?

Jack hadn't mentioned one thing about what they did, no filthy joke, antagonizing jab, nothing. What nerved Rhys the most about the man's behavior was the clear lack of acknowledgement of their sex, their hot, random, dirty sex. It was weird, it was needy, but it was so good. But Jack had yet to say anything about it, if he liked it, hated it, he couldn't make heads or tails with Jack acting so...nonchalant.

A thought in the back of his head rose to sit on his tongue, a newfound yearn to say what was on his mind. His hand left the leather seat to rub anxiously at the back of his neck and watched Jack open the door and peer inside the next room.

"Hey Jack..." damn, he couldn't stop himself. But he had to know. If Jack wasn't going to say anything, then Rhys would, as much discomfort as it gave him. His courage stemmed from his high hopes of getting home soon. He swallowed down the fluttery feeling crawling up his chest and into his throat.

"Yeah, pumpkin?" Jack answered, still scoping the next room with his gun raised cautiously.

"I was, I mean I wanted to...ah" _C'mon, Rhys, just spit it out. Don't puke_.

"What was that, princess?" Jack turned with a raised brow, and Rhys swallowed again.

"I mean, this is random and all, but..." he chuckled nervously, "I was thinking, about when we get back to Helios, and last night, and...where we stand with, ya know, what happened, uh, between us..."

"Where we stand?" Usually when asked that question it was self explanatory, but Jack had a nasty knack of pointing out a simple statement or question for more elaboration. Whether it was genuine or not, he was never prepared to have to explain it.

Rhys blinked, his chest tightening. "Yeah, the uh, the sex. And after." Ugh, when he made it sound like that, it sounded uncomfortable, and it made him almost forget what he was asking.

Jack sighed, closed his eyes, and scratched his head with the end of his gun. The fluttering in Rhys' chest dropped to his stomach like a brick. He knew that look, and right now he wished he could have just punched himself in the mouth.

"Yeah... Listen, kiddo," and here it comes. Rhys flinched slightly and braced for it. _'Stupid_ , he thought to himself, _you should have just puked.'_

"Let me just say, first off, you were great. Like, one of the best I've had. But you're also my PA, kiddo." Jack took a step toward Rhys, and it made the younger man almost want to step back. "And I'm not all entirely sure of what those bandits were drinking, but that shit was strong enough to make me forget that little tidbit. You following me, Rhysie?"

Rhys winced at Jack's voice, the softness in the last few words. He'd rather the loud, angry booming, or the antagonistic laugh any day over this.

"Yeah," Rhys replied, shrugging and pretended like the weight in his gut wasn't there. "I totally get you."

 _Shit_. Jack must have picked up on the falter in Rhys' tone, for he let out another long sigh and walked forward until he was standing directly in front of Rhys, strangely bigger than normal. Probably because he felt three inches tall in front of the older man.

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. Rhys kept his stare down, biting the inside of his cheek in growing embarrassment.

"Rhysie, you're a good kid. One of the best PA's I've had in a while. I made the right decision by appointing you that position when you got me back to Hyperion." He paused. "Look at me, pumpkin."

Damn that tone. _Don't feel bad for me, you asshole_. Rhys raised his head to meet Jack's eyes.

"This is gonna sound dickish, cupcake, but last night was more about the frustration and crazy Pandoran alcohol. When we get back, this" he waved his other hand between them, "won't be continuing. For the good of the company. You understand?"

Rhys couldn't argue that what Jack just said was extremely dickish, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything he really shouldn't. After all those moments; the heated stares during meetings, the whispered innuendos, all meant nothing for the past six months. The days spent listening to Jack's AI whispering hopes and dreams into his head, promises for him on a job well done, that he was _so proud of his baby boy._ Did they ever mean anything?

And the sex, the touches, the words they exchanged, was all to quell the man's pent up frustration and alcohol mudded mind?

So he'd been used. Great. Like he should be surprised. When Handsome Jack wanted something, whether sober or not, angry or happy, he got what he wanted. And Rhys, as usual, was left with nothing but the cleanup.

He really fell for it this time.

Rhys suddenly let out a sharp laugh, surprising both men. He tried his hardest to make it sound genuine. "I get it, Jack. You don't have to explain." He took a step back and slid out of the other man's grip on his shoulder. "I completely agree with you. Last night? Psh, never happened, right?"

Jack squinted his eyes, giving Rhys a cautious look. "Kiddo..."

"Right." Rhys smiled, inwardly pleading with Jack to just nod and forget this whole conversation. "Well, I'm glad we got that out of the way," he turned away from Jack's scrutiny, "I'm gonna...go check out the back of the train, just to make sure everything's good."

" _Okay_ ," Jack acknowledged, a bit warily. "You wanna take one of my guns?"

 _I'd probably slap you with it._ "Nope, I'm good thanks. I'll meet you in the control room."

Jack was right, there was no arguing with his point. Jack was his boss, and as his Personal Adviser it was his responsibility to keep Jack in line, ensuring his decisions were planned and acted out accordingly to his wishes, to assist the man with his schedule, providing helpful information in favor of executive decisions. Not fucking the man while stuck in the middle of nowhere, emotions high and alcohol a dirty variable.

But the pain in his chest argued differently. The rejection still hurt, despite how appropriate the decision was. And it frustrated him that his emotions couldn't agree with the decision made.

The door separating this room to the next one suddenly slid open, which was weird considering Rhys hadn't made it to the handle yet. He glanced up, and met two angry brown eyes and the mouth of a long barreled pistol.

For a moment no one said anything, Rhys staring at the new presence staring back just as quietly.

He inhaled deeply, and it was possibly the longest breath Rhys had ever taken. He instantly became aware of the sheathed sword dangling to his waist. Would he have time to reach for it, to unsheathe it and defend himself?

He answered his own question, as when his fingers twitched for the sword the man in front of him cocked his gun and aimed it at Rhys' forehead.

"Sorry, kid."

"RHYS! DOWN!"

Rhys was too petrified to move, but he knees gave way when Jack's hand grabbed the back of the leather jacket around the young man and hoisted him down. Something whizzed past his head, and he felt a burn in his shoulder instantly. He was pulled behind two of the leather seats, an onslaught of bullets meant for him shredded through the fabric and sent stuffing flying everywhere.

His heart was pounding, air rushing in and out of his lungs with each frantic breath. His hand scrambled to his shoulder, trembling fingers feeling over the ripped leather and hissed when he touched heated flesh.

Jack reached over the seat and fired off two shots before dropping back down. He quickly turned to Rhys and grabbed his shoulder. "Lemme see." He barked, and slapped away Rhys' hand to inspect for himself. Rhys watched the man's face, eyes wild and lips pulled in a snarl. When he saw Rhys' shoulder the rage on his features seemed to falter somewhat.

"You're fine. Just a flesh wound. Bullet zipped right by you."

Rhys nodded hastily, barely listening through the gunfire.

"Boys!" The man shouted, "I got two over here! One looks Hyperion, the other..." Just as the man turned and aimed, Jack was already over the top of the seat, finger on the trigger.

"Holy shit it's Handsome-" the sound of a gunshot cut the man off, followed by a haunting splatter.

"Stupid bastard." Jack hissed. They could hear shouts farther down the train. Damn, there were more of them, and coming fast.

Rhys had finally controlled his breathing, but panic still surged through him. Shit, this was bad. Judging by the many voices, there must have been a large group of bandits on this train. With only him and Jack and who knew how many of them, things were turning grim.

And they were stuck on a moving train.

"Dammit...like sitting ducks." Jack growled, and instantly his eyes lit up and glanced above Rhys to the ceiling of the train.

"The turrets." Jack mumbled to himself loud enough for Rhys to hear.

"Jack...?"

"Rhys, get to the control room. We can trigger the security system. I had turrets built into the walls. If we can activate them then we won't have to worry about these scum suckers."

"You had turrets built in to the walls? In the passenger bays?!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I was drunk when I designed this damn thing, remember? I don't know, it sounded cool at the time."

A random gunshot ricochet off the wall of the train close by their heads, and both men ducked.

"Okay, I'm down." Rhys quickly decided. "How do I go about triggering the security?"

"You're gonna have to hack the CPU, Rhysie. Get in there and override some of the energy conservation-"

"You want me to hack the train?" Rhys sputtered incredulously. Okay, yeah, he had no problem hacking systems he was vaguely familiar with. From an Atlas base to top secret Hyperion databases and everything in between, with a little sweat it was no big hassle. But there was one significant difference between all those times and now.

"Jack...I-I can't, not without my echo..." was Jack insane, or did he forget that one important factor? His arm, his eye, his port, nothing was working. Without his echo implants, there was no way he could break into the train's database.

"You don't need it, kitten." Strong fingers gripped his jaw tightly and forced him to look into Jack's eyes. They were wild, glowing, intense. "You're a smart kid, Rhys. I know you can hack that shit no problem," Jack leaned in and took Rhys' breath away when he smirked, "so if you prove me wrong, kiddo, I'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be choking on my shoelaces."

If Jack's hand wasn't clutching his jaw Rhys was sure his mouth would drop. Jack believed in him. Handsome Jack had just admitted he had faith in him, trusted him.

It lit fire in his body, every inch of him burned and he returned Jack's smirk with a confident one of this own and nodded.

Jack huffed approvingly. He moved his hand from Rhys' jaw to cup his face. "That's my boy." Their moment was cut short by a screaming psycho barreling through the door waving a hacksaw above his head.

"TEAR THE FLESH, RIDE THE CORPSE LIKE A PONY-!"

A bullet to the neck shut that shit up.

"Get going, kiddo!" Jack hopped over the seats and stood with shoulders set. In one fluid motion he held Nisha in one hand and Lucy in the other, a grin splitting his face with the promise of mass murder. He stalked toward the door, not before being halted by Rhys' alarmed shout.

"What are you doing?" He realized as soon as he said it when Jack gave him a look he'd only seen very few times, the horrifying telltale sign that Jack had just done something truly gruesome or had every intention of.

"No, Jack."

"Aw, is Rhysie worried about ol Jack? Don't be, pumpkin, just get your ass moving. I'll meet you up there once I get a chance. I'll give you the signal to set off the turrets."

"It's too reckless. You'll get yourself killed!"

"If you don't get to that fucking control room, dumbass, we'll _both_ be dead!" A slew of gunshots rang out when the bandits began flooding into the next room. Rhys looked to Jack, then at the bandits, and back to Jack.

"Don't die, asshole."

"Ditto, sweetcheeks."

And with that, Rhys bolted down the isle, sprinting out of the oncoming commotion to the front of the train. He turned back only once, watching Jack stand just outside the door duel wielding two pistols and aimed at the ready as bandits ran toward him.

"Come on, boys! You want some'a Handsome Jack?!"

That was last thing Rhys heard before a symphony of gunshots drowned his ears.

When he reached the first door he swung it open and threw himself through in in one motion, running as fast as his legs could take him down the isle to the next door. They must have been closer to the control room than he thought, because after a few rooms he came to a door littered with obvious warning signs and specifications of what was in the room, aside from the giant red LED Main Control Room glowing bright above the door.

It took him no time to get through the door, using his metal arm to pry the heavy door open despite the pain in his ribs. He'd worry about the affects later.

Once he able to get in he stopped at the entrance, taking in the scenery around him. There were monitors everywhere, all filled with specific status readings. Multiple keyboards and labeled buttons were scattered about, a few very important looking levers in random spots. The area was small, could probably fit four people snuggly. Just above the screens and buttons was a wide rectangular window. In the dead of night Rhys was unable to see anything other than what the headlights could offer; tracks moving under the train so fast they were a blur.

"Wow." Rhys mumbled. The sight was overwhelming, and he began to panic. Where did he begin? There were so many screens, all telling him something different. This was where his echoeye would come in handy, and damn if he didn't wish for his tech to be working at this very moment. It would take twice as long to hack. Did he have that long? Shit. What if Jack made one wrong move and that was it?

"Dammit, dammit!" Rhys shouted. Frustrated tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Nothing mattered now, Jack's something-of-a rejection, his dehydration, the pain in his ribs. He could care less about any of that. Jack needed him, had put his faith in him that they were going to get out of this alive.

He wiped the tears off on the leather sleeve and straightened up.

He would get them out of here.

It had taken a total of fifteen minutes. Too long for his liking, but he was already so close, he had just gotten through the last security wall, which was by far the most difficult one he'd come across. Rhys kept his eyes trained on the monitor with full concentration. His fingers danced over the keyboards. He had finally managed through the security walls to enable the turrets.

Of course, like in every important life or death scenario, he had to wait for something to warm up.

And so far, he was at 7%.

The sounds of gunshots were hard to ignore, and would distract him every so often. They had lessened somewhat over the last five minutes, and Rhys found that alarming because he still hadn't heard from Jack. A few times he wanted to abandon his post, to run and help him, to see if he was still fighting. He knew Jack would be undeniably pissed if he did, and knowing that kept him where he was.

 _He's alive, you idiot. He's fine. It's Handsome Jack, he's not gonna let a bunch of bandits take him down._

It was like a mantra to try and sooth his anxiety and dread, and for the most part it worked.

 _He's let that happen already._

"Shut up." Rhys growled to himself. The turrets were now at 24%. _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!_

"Rhys!" came the familiar shout from outside the door. Rhys gasped, relief flooding every inch of his body. Thank God that big idiot was okay.

"In here!" He shouted back.

Jack wasn't too far, judging by the distance of his voice outside the door. 29%. He heard a thud against the metal, assuming Jack had thrown himself into it and began prying it open.

He had managed to get the door a foot open and shouted inside. "Jesus Christ, kiddo, what the hell's taking so-!" And suddenly Jack wasn't there. Rhys whirled back around and stared. "Jack?" He called out nervously.

35%.

"Jack?"

The door swung open in a blur, and Jack, literally, came flying in. Rhys moved out of the way in time for the bigger man to miss him, landing against the computer monitors and window with his back and the force of the impact ripped a pained shout from his lips. When he landed he caught himself with shaky legs, slumped back against the monitor behind him.

"Fuck! Jack! What the hell happened?" When Rhys tried to rush to him, he was stopped when Jack held a hand up for him to stop.

"Don't," he coughed, "get any closer, kiddo."

"What, why?" The younger man glanced back to the screen. 47%.

Jack used the monitor behind him for leverage to stand up, grunting a curse under his breath and arched his back. Rhys winced for him.

"I may have," he coughed again, "...may have pissed off a Goliath."

"A _what_?"

No sooner had he asked Rhys saw a large blur burst in, a gigantic arm the width of two of Rhys' thighs shooting past him, a massive hand wrapping around Jack's throat and shoving him back up the glass. Jack let out a sputtered gasp, hands shooting up to the large fingers tightening around his neck. Rhys let out a surprised shout and watched the monster of a man struggle against the small entrance of the room, _getting stuck_ in the frame of the door.

He'd heard about these guys. Bits and pieces from some of the boasting soldiers on Hyperion that had survived from a squadron going up against these beasts. He'd been taught the slang term for these...men-not-men from Sasha and Fiona.

They were Goliaths. They were human, but not human. Whatever they were, they were gigantic.

And this guy was a Badass Goliath.

He saw the large metal shield over the man's head, knowing from the stories as something one doesn't normally get too close to knock off and come back unscathed.

And this guy was currently strangling the life out of Jack.

"Jack!" The scream left his mouth before he realized it, desperate to say fuck the loading the screen and get to Jack. But the Goliath acted like Rhys didn't even exist, it's attention solely on the man he was clenching in his huge hand. Compared to him Rhys knew he couldn't stand a chance. It would take all of his strength just to pry off a few fingers.

"I'LL TEAR INTO YOU LIKE HONEY HAM!" His voice was just as massive as it's stature, loud and thundering in the small control room.

Jack squirmed in the giant man's grip, clawing and beating at the giant fingers. The Goliath didn't even flinch.

82%.

"Jesus, Jack! Please, where the hell are your guns!?" Rhys was desperate at this point. If he could grab just one gun, he could do something, anything, _fuck_ , the cut circulation was starting to show red on Jack's face even through the mask.

"No..." he could hear Jack wheeze, "Rhys, the...turrets."

He wanted to scream at Jack, to shout and curse and ask why he was insisting on those damn turrets when he was currently dying. But all he could do was glance back at the screen. 90%.

It wasn't fast enough. In the ten percent he had left, it would be too late.

His eyes glanced around the room frantically, searching for anything, any fucking thing he could use to get the beast off of him. _Think, Rhys, think dammit!_ He looked down and paused immediately.

The sword still clinging to his side.

He could use it. Hell, it was no gun but it was the only thing he had.

"POP YOUR HEAD LIKE A CHERRY!" The Badass Goliath roared.

"Rrgh...like you...have popped...any cherries...in your life, pal. Nngh!" Jack managed to gurgle out.

Because right now was totally the best fucking time to spend your last breath insulting a twelve foot tall, six hundred pound man who was currently crushing your windpipe.

93%.

Jack's fist began to slow to sluggish halfhearted swings, finally falling limp at his sides, eyes rolling up in the back of his head.

Rhys lunged, surging forward, hand going to the sword and yanking it out of it's sheath. His eyes were wild, his hands were trembling so bad he had to hold the sword with two hands to steady himself. He raised the sword above his head, and brought it down hard with an angry scream.

Warm blood splattered his face. The Badass Goliath let out a shrill scream and withdrew his arm, bringing back a bloody stub where his forearm would have been. Blood sprayed in all directions when the Goliath flailed his arm wildly, his scream drowning out the frantic beating of Rhys' heart. Jack sunk to the floor lifelessly, the severed arm still locked around his neck. He groaned once before a fit of hoarse coughs racked his body. Sluggishly he reached up and yanked the hand from around his throat and tossed it to the side, kicking it farther away from him with his foot.

Rhys glanced quickly to the monitor.

100%. ACTIVATE TURRETS. He threw his hand onto the activation button. The train hummed with the extra power flowing through it. He could hear the turrets coming from the walls, ammunition loading and aiming on their targets. He wasn't sure what had caused him to run forward then, but without thinking he charged the screaming Goliath and rammed his full weight into the large body, and the force combined with the flailing caused the large man to stumble out of the room and into the line of oncoming fire, the door sliding shut between them and the giant man getting torn apart by the rain of bullets.

Black spots in Rhys's vision shortened his victory, a pain like no other burned through the adrenaline in his veins and straight into his ribs. He screamed through clenched teeth and dropped to his knees, panting and cursing through the agony. No, he had no time for this. He had to get up, get to Jack, send a transmission to Helios and get them home.

He glanced over, and immediately met large blue and green eyes. Jack had been staring at him, a hand rubbing at the swollen purple and red skin of his neck. Rhys had never seen such a shocked expression on his face before, especially directed at him.

"Holy shit, Rhys..."

" _Unauthorized Conductor_."

The mechanical noise behind them meant nothing good, especially when dealing with Hyperion security. Both men turned and met eyes with a small turret aimed right at them.

" _Unauthorized Conductor. Please state Hyperion ID Code_."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Jack groaned hoarsely.

" _ID Code was not found. Initiating Bandit Elimination Sequence_."

Rhys turned to Jack, eyes wide and panicked. Jack lunged for him, putting a hand on his back and forcing him flat against the ground, his other hand producing a gun from his ankle holster.

"Wh-What are you...?"

"Stay down, kitten."

A single shot rang out through the small room.

 _A single shot..._

"JACK!"


End file.
